Flight 401 Into Uncharted Territory
by misharize-me
Summary: Dean Winchester is having a hard time believing that one 5 hour plane ride with stranger Castiel Milton can turn him from straight to gay. But it just so happens, that it might.
1. Chapter 1

_Destiel AU, rated M for content/language_

_**I wanted Castiel's character in this story to be a combination of Cas and Misha mixed together, so he may go back and forth between personalities, or he might just be a little bit of both at the same time**_

_P.S. I chose flight **401 **because Dean met Castiel in Season **4**, episode **1**. _

* * *

><p>Dean clenches his jaw, pinches his brows and locks his eyes hard on the guy who pretty much just ruined his whole day.<p>

"Hey! This is not fair! This douche-bag cut in front of me!" Dean shouts, as he attempts to throw the security guards hands off his shoulders.

The guard grabs him by the biceps and shoves him, "You wanna get kicked outta the airport? Huh? D'ya?"

Dean stutters, "N-no, but that guy cut me off!" He yells, waving his hands around in front of the guy, "I was next and he just butt in! I had every right to push him!"

The guy looks at Dean, eyebrows raised and a "_I-have-never-been-to-an-airport"_ confused look. "I apologize. I didn't realize the line started back there."

"Shove it up your ass!" Dean spits at him, swatting his hand out to him and brushing the side of his trench coat. He would've hit harder, but the guard was already pulling him back toward the end of the line.

"That's it, kid! End of the line!"

Dean squirms under the strong arms, "What?! No! That's not fair! I'm going to miss my flight! Flight 401 leaves at eleven! "He yells, unable to push out of the guards grasp. His feet drag against the tile and made a loud _squeak, _which draws all eyes on him.

The man's hands were like clamps against Dean's arms. "Life's not fair, kid."

_**4 minutes and 23 seconds earlier...**_

_Finally._

Dean's teeth chatter in anticipation as he watches the person in front of him go through the checkout security line. The two hour wait has seemed to go by _reasonably _quick, and Dean passes time by watching some of the good looking flight attendants pass by and head on to their terminals. He's even received a sly wink from one of them, in which he'd quickly returned the gesture, but then has to remind himself that he's _engaged._

But, despite the frequent googley-eyes, it is still a long wait for a mere thirty-second check, and Dean is more than happy to _finally _be at the front of the line.

"Next!"

Dean smiles, "Halleluja-

And suddenly Dean's shoulder was pushed with an incredible force, knocking his airplane ticket and passport directly out of his hand. He keels over a little bit, unexpectedly getting whipped in the face by a coat.

"What the hell, dude?" Dean groans as he rubs his cheeks before coming face-to-face with a guy that looks like he hadn't the slightest clue what he'd just done. The guy doesn't say anything, but Dean inadvertently gives him a little shove on the shoulder, which knocks the guy back way farther than Dean intends it to, causing him to fall full fledge on the security guard next to him.

"Hey!" The guard yells, "What's going on here?"

Dean parts his mouth to call out the good-for-nothing-jerk that had just cut him off, but the guy speaks up before Dean has a chance to. "I was just in line. They called next."

Dean scoffs, raising his chest to the guy as if to shove him again, "Are you kidding me? You just cut the whole line!" Dean screams, thrusting his body toward the man as he grabs his elbow and yanks him in the direction toward the end of the line.

The guard grabs Dean's hand and jerks it away from the guy's arm, "Knock it off, kid!"

Dean pulls his hand away, "Knock what off? I didn't do anything! This asshole cut me off! I was next!"

The guard grunts and clasps his hands onto Dean's shoulders, propelling him toward the back of the line, "That's it, kid! End of the line."

The guard plops him down at the end of the line with a deep breath, which clouds Dean's face and makes him grimace, "Dude, you need a tic-tac."

The guy clenches his jaw, "One more like that and you're outta here," He says before he walks away, turning around to Dean one more time, pointing his fat finger up at him, "And don't make me come back here, got it?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Yeah sure, okay." he groans, adjusting the straps on his backpack. He manages to catch a look at the guy who cut him off as he leaves the security check-out and starts heading to the gates. The guy looks back at Dean and immediately gapes away when he catches Dean staring, his eyes twitching with panic.

_Yeah, that's right, you fucking idiot. You __**should**__ be afraid of me._

Dean bites the inside of his cheek as he watches him leave, practically skipping the entire security check-out line and basically going right into the gate. And if that doesn't rile him up enough, all the jerk had managed to say was _'I apologize'_. How could the guards not make _him _go to the end? And why was _nobody _behind him defending him in the least?

_No, I mean it's not like you fucking cut me off in line after a two hour wait, making me go all the way to the back of the line and having to wait another two fucking hours, and not to mention I'm probably going to miss my damn flight because of you._

Dean balls up his fists as he takes deep breaths in and out. If he misses his flight, he's _screwed. _So fucking _screwed. _He needs to make it to Sam's wedding, and god, if he doesn't, he would be in _deep shit. _He's already missed the rehearsal, not to mention he's been promising to see his brother for months, but things kept coming up and he'd have to cancel. Sure, yeah, he could take another flight, but that would mean more waiting, and Dean just wants to get back to New York as fast as he can.

He can't disappoint his brother, no matter how much he hated that _snob, _Ruby, he was marrying. He almost wants to skip the wedding, as if to emphasize his point to Sam about how much he hates her and the attitude that Ruby gives him, even when he gives her his best _attempt_ at being nice. Sam always pesters him about it whenever Dean brings it up.

_"Give her a chance, Dean! She's really a wonderful girl!"_

_"Wonderful girl my ass." _He'd say, in which Sam would only roll his eyes and scoff in the back of his throat at him.

Despite his hatred, he knew he still had to go. And now, he has no idea if he was going to get on his flight, all because of some _stupid jackass in a trench coat._

His brows sunk down and his mouth clasps as his eyes trail over the long line. And he couldn't do anything but stand there and wait. And with his luck, he'd miss his flight and then he's beyond screwed, all because of some idiot who didn't know where the front of the line was.

* * *

><p>When he <em>finally <em>makes it to the end of checkout, his feet hurt from standing, but that doesn't stop him from booking it to his gate. He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he runs.

_**10:58 P.M.**_

He tips over a few people on the way there by accident, but still continues to run anyway, and doesn't bother to yell out a _"Sorry!"._

When he gets to his gate, nobody's there. Which means-

_Shit! They already boarded!_

Dean runs up to the counter at the gate, "Okay, okay, I'm here, can I please go on? I'm sorry I-"

The girl at the counter interrupts him as she folds her hands together on the desk and smiles, "Flight 401 has already boarded, sir. I'm sorry but you'll-"

Dean slams his hands on the counter, "God dammit, please! Please! You don't understand! It's my brother's wedding and I need-"

"I'm sorry, sir but I can't let-"

"Please! I'm begging you! Please!" Dean yells. His head begins to pound. He _really _could not miss this flight.

The girl purses her lips and sighs. "_Fine_. I will let you on. You're lucky I'm as nice as I am. And you're lucky you're one fine looking specimen."

Dean practically squeals as he raises his eyebrows at her, "Thank you! Thank you so much-uh-" Dean peers at her name tag as she leads him to the door, "uhh-Pamela. Thank you so much, Pamela. I really appreciate it, you have no idea."

Pamela grins at him and places a hand on his lower back as she leads him to the door, "Mhm, I know you do, sweet cheeks."

Dean returns the smile at her as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. He shuts the door behind him and steps onto the platform that leads to the airplane. Thank _God_ he wasn't married yet, or the wedding ring on his finger would've blew it. Speaking of which, Dean suddenly feels a smidge of guilt grow in his stomach. Yes, he was _engaged, _but he _needed _to get on the plane.

He shakes it off as he walks down the platform and onto the plane, where he's greeted by a flight attendant named Bela who seems to give him a bit of a glare given the fact that he's late, but she tries to put on that fake flight attendant smile on her face as she takes his ticket.

"Seat 24A. Do you need any help with your bags, sir?" She says as she hands him back the ticket.

"Nah, I'm all set, thanks." Dean mutters, pushing past her. She nods at him and begins following him down the tight isle, checking carry-ons and seat belts.

Dean squeezes through the isle as he counts the numbers above the seats, and when he finally reaches section 24, he immediately stops.

He turns around to Bela again, "Um, yeah, excuse me? I need my seat changed."

Bela walks up to him with a fused glare plastered onto her pretty face, "And why is that? Something wrong?"

Dean scoffs, "Hell yes there is something wrong. That guy that's next to me? Yeah, see him?" Dean turns and points to the guy, "This fucker cut me off at security and I had to wait another two damn hours in the line. I barely made it to the plane!"

Bela raises open hands up in front of her chest and parts her lips, "Um, excuse me, but first off, that language is not tolerated on this flight. Got it? And secondly, you're lucky you even made it onto this plane. If it were me at the counter, I wouldn'tve let you on. But Pam, she has a soft spot for sweet ass like you, so you're very lucky for that too. Now, I suggest you take your damn seat before I kick you off this damn plane."

"Huh," Dean groans at her, surprised that she has that kind of kick in her petite little body, "Alright, fine." He says, stepping in front of his row before turning back to her one last time, "And by the way, that language is not tolerated on this _damn _plane."

Bela rolls her eyes and takes a huge breath before she walks away. Dean cackles before drawing his attention to the guy below him, who is already staring at him.

_Just my fucking luck._

Dean looks at him harshly, "Wanna get up so I can get by?" He spits at him, still greatly annoyed with him even though he had made the flight.

The man stands up in his seat, making enough room for Dean so he could pass, "Of course, my apologies."

Dean passes him and flops down in his seat, "Out of all the fucking seats on the plane..." Dean mutters to himself as he looks out the window and into the dark sky.

"Excuse me?"

Dean turns his head to find that the man was already staring at him with his big eyes, his pupils basically so large they almost covered the deep blue irises around them. "Nothing, man." Dean groans, his stomach already filling with anger at even the look of this guy.

The guy clears his throat, "I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot," He says as he holds an open hand to him, "My name is Castiel. Castiel Milton."

Dean looks at his hand, then back up to his eyes, grunts, and turns his attention back to the window.

_My name's Fuck You, nice to make your acquaintance._

He hears Castiel shuffle in his seat next to him before he clears his throat again. Dean gives him a small glare and see's that he looks really..._upset. _Alright fine, he was confused about where the front of the line was, alright that wasn't _entirely_ his fault. Dean rolls his eyes before sticking his hand out.

"Dean Winchester," He groans, and Castiel turns to him and exchanges a small smile that Dean can't help but return. Castiel takes his hand a tightly shakes it, and Dean is greeted with a warm, soft and kind of sweaty hand, but he still forces himself to smile. Castiel's eyes seem to _really _pierce into him, and Dean isn't sure how it makes him feel.

Castiel smiles even bigger, so much that Dean can see the lining of his gums and his nose crinkle at the top, "Nice to meet you, Dean."

Dean looks down and realizes he is still holding the guys hand, which he quickly pulls away when he notices, "Mhm," he hums, pulling his hand away and then rubbing it against his knee. Dean is still staring at him long enough to also notice that Castiel's eyes followed his hand down to his knee, and he was still watching as he rubs it.

_Alright, that's a little creepy._

Dean quickly takes his hand off his knee and returns his attention back to the window. Usually, he can tell right off the bat whether someone was attracted to him, and eyes trailing to the legs were usually a big giveaway, but Dean can't tell with him, and that set his nerves more on edge than they already were._  
><em>

The lights above him turn off and the wheels creak as the plane starts up, and Dean shuts his eyes and leans his head back before taking a deep breath and _attempting _to relax on his five hour flight to California.

* * *

><p>Dean wakes up an hour and a half later with a fucking massive urge to pee, and he feels a dreadful cramp in his right shoulder. His eyes are still a little blurry from just waking up, but he manages to look over and he makes out the brown messy hair that was pressing against his shoulder and tickling his neck. And, of fucking course it is Castiel, out stone-cold against him and breathing warm and heavy against his shoulder and chest.<p>

And he doesn't mean to, he _really _doesn't mean to, but Dean turns toward him and just kinda..._smiles. _His hair smells like a mix between mint and honey, which Dean _really _doesn't mean to notice, and he see's that Castiel's eyelashes twitch a little when he breathes, which Dean _really really _doesn't mean to notice. The sudden bump of turbulence again shakes him from his '_momentary lapse', _and reminds him that he really just needs to fucking piss.

The turbulence manages to shake Castiel just enough that he inadvertently moves his head, leaving Dean's shoulder now bare and also leaving a little spot of drool right below his collar.

_Yeah, ew?_

The plane shakes a little again, and Dean's bladder _really _doesn't agree with that. He looks over to Castiel, calm, content and fast asleep, and Dean just does not want to wake him up. Dean starts becoming angry with himself because he can't find the willpower in him to wake Castiel up and tell him to move so he can just fucking pee. For Christ sake he's made old ladies stand up before just so he could go talk to that hot girl that just walked by, hoping maybe he'd make it into the mile high club, but_ god_, for the life of him, he can't wake this guy up so he could just fucking take a piss.

And about half an hour later, Dean is ready to pee in the empty water bottle that was in his backpack. Crossing his legs did not help, because his damn balls just kept making everything uncomfortable no matter how many times he tried to casually adjust himself. He tries not to think about it, but trying not to think about it made things almost ten times worse because he just keeps telling himself _not _to think about it over and over again in his head, which is a really dumb idea because well, yeah.

And if it can't get any worse, the plane shakes again, way more than usual and Dean lets out an unexpected whimper. Castiel shuffles next to him, making a weird breathing noise in the back of his throat, followed by a very deep groan before he opened his eyes.

_And wow he has a very deep groan-I mean, well voice._

"Oh thank god!" Dean shouts, unbuckling his belt and standing over Castiel, who is looking at Dean like he's the sun, squinting his eyes and nose and covering his face with his hands.

And then Cas speaks in a deep _I-just-woke-up_ kind of voice, "Mm-what? Huh?" His voice is gravely and strangely..._attractive._

_Stop it, Dean! Bad!_

Dean clears his throat before looking down at Castiel still in a tired phase, "Dude, would you mind getting up? I really gotta pee."

Castiel wavers for a few moments, "Of course, my apologies, Dean." He groans, unbuckling and standing to meet Dean's eyes before backing out of the isle for Dean to pass. Castiel eyes him like a magnet, and _wow_, this guy sure as hell knows how to stare_._

"Thanks, man." Dean says, brushing past his arm, accidentally making Castiel let out a little _"oompf"_ in his deep and gravely voice again, which he managed to do directly into Dean's ear.

_STOP IT, DEAN. STOP. STOP. STOP._

He brushes it off as he tries to run normally to the bathroom, but accidentally ends up looking like he had a stick up his ass. And _wow, _peeing had never felt so damn good. He pees for what seems like a good five minutes, breathing out a satisfied sigh once he's finished. He turns to stare at the mirror, taking the ring Sam gave him and putting it on the counter before he sighs and washes his hands. Then for some reason, he just can't stop hearing _Castiel groan. _He grimaces at himself in the mirror before holding up a pointed finger directly at his reflection.

"Dean Winchester, you are engaged. Stop _that. _You are not even gay!" He says to himself as he shakes his head and retorts his low voice to a whisper, "God, you just watch way to much porn."

He leaves the bathroom and begins his walk back down to his row. He stops and stands above Castiel who was, surprise surprise, fast asleep.

_He fell asleep? That quickly? Are you fucking kidding me?_

Dean lets out an irritated sigh before he places a hand on Castiel's shoulder, shaking it a little, "Uh, dude? Castiel? Wake up."

Castiel doesn't budge. His face is turned directly outward towards Dean, and Dean bends down a little in fear that if Castiel did open his eyes, he'd be greeted with a nice face full of Dean's crotch. Dean leans down and sticks his butt out in the isle and shakes Castiel harder, "Castiel? C'mon, man!"

Someone taps Dean on his back behind him, "Excuse me, sir."

Dean turns and see's a woman behind him. She's blocked by his butt pretty much taking up the entire main isle.

_God, dammit, Castiel._

Dean flattens his body out and doesn't really have any other choice but to press _closer _to Castiel's face in order to let this girl by. She squishes behind him, pressing her side into Dean's back and pushes him _even more _into Castiel's face, and oh God, Dean is _not at all comfortable._

Dean watches the girl pass, trying his best to look anywhere but down at Castiel, mainly to avoid _certain mental images_.

"Dean?"

_Oh shit._

And Dean looks down, and sure enough, there sits Castiel, wide-eyes as he stares directly up at him, face full of Dean's crotch.

_Fucking shit._

"Sorry, uh, I needed to move 'cause some girl needed to get by and I didn't want to wake you." Dean says, full fledged stuttering like an idiot and doing pointless random hand gestures that doesn't even fit what he's saying, and he has no idea why he even cares that he is making a fool out of himself because he hardly knows this guy.

"It's alright, Dean. Let me get up so you can get by." Castiel groans, his voice still deep. Castiel stands and pressed his body back against the seat, which gives Dean one of two choices._  
><em>

One, he can squeeze by with his butt pressed up against Castiel's dick.

Or option two, which means he can brush his dick up against Castiel's dick, while their faces will be very close together.

_Well I guess he can't look at my face if my just butt brushes by..._

_Butt it is then!_

Dean steps slowly in the congested row, trying oh-so-hard to avoid the thought of his ass touching Castiel's hips. Dean could've momentarily swore while he was passing by that Castiel voluntarily moved his hips forward to press more into Dean, but that would be crazy, and _very very bad. _But besides that, it's quick and painless. Quick, easy, and painless.

"Thanks, dude." Dean says as he plops down in his seat again, happy to get out of probably the most awkward situation of his life.

"Of course, Dean."

Dean should feel extremely uncomfortable, considering Castiel basically says his name every time he speaks, and he wonders if that's just maybe the way Castiel speaks, or Castiel actually just likes saying it, because for some reason, Dean sure likes hearing it. It could have just been the fact that Castiel has a voice unlike anything Dean has ever heard, or it could just be that Dean's getting his feelings confused because he decide whether he's still mad at him for this morning, or completely forgiven him. And then Dean's even more confused because he can't figure out how that has anything to do with Castiel's voice, but then he's struck with the idea that maybe he's just..._in denial._

_God dammit, Dean you fucking son of a bitch, knock it the fuck off!_

"Dean, are you alright?"

Dean snaps back to Earth and turns his head, meeting those damn eyes that Dean just so happens to think are..._gorgeous._

_What the fucking fuck, Dean! Fucking, fucking fuck!_

God dammit Dean tries so hard to look away, but the more he tries to look away the more he notices that Castiel's eyes aren't _just _blue, they're those kind of eyes that make you feel...lost. Alluring and sensual, with just a little touch of mischief. Like weird speckles of broken glass, kaleidoscopes filled with the daytime sky, and it's almost like Dean can hear the crash of the waves as he stares into the ceaseless ocean.

_Oh this is not good..._

"Uh, what?"

Castiel looks genuinely concerned. "You seem to be troubled. Is there something wrong?" He says, and he has this therapist sort of vibe, and Dean does not like it.

"No, why?"

Castiel grins, "You're talking like an idiot, Dean."

_Huh?_

And for a moment Dean hasn't the slightest clue what Castiel's talking about. The last thing he said to him was _"Thanks, dude."_. Besides that, he's only been thinking. Alright yeah, he's been thinking about Castiel's eyes, so what? They're just eyes, for Christ sake! There's no big deal in thinking about a guy's ey-

_Shit._

Then, Dean knows exactly what Castiel is talking about. He's been _thinking. Thinking out loud._

Dean's heart picks up like a jack-hammer, "What did I say?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just a lot of cursing to yourself. That's about all." Castiel laughs again, way more high pitched than his usual voice.

_Oh, thank god!_

Grateful for _only_ his cursing, Dean lets out an embarrassing smile, "Sorry, man. I think out loud sometimes."

Castiel laughs again, which is a little weird for Dean because he has been so invested in his _lost-puppy _look.

"It's fine, Dean."

And there he goes with Dean's name again.

They're silent now, and Dean reverts his attention to the window again. It's still dark outside, which means they still have a while left to go in the flight. Five o'clock in the morning was the designated time arrival, and by the look of pitch black darkness covering the sky, Dean figures it's only around three o'clock, which gives him two more hours on the plane...next to Castiel.

"So what are you doing in California? You live there?"

Dean turns his head and again and is welcomed with those damn eyes of his, but this time his pupils have practically multiplied in growth by several times, leaving only crescents of the blue outlining the black. Dean feels his stomach flutter when he see's them, because dilated pupils are _not _a good thing. Dean really just hopes that maybe he's on drugs.

Dean clears his throat, "No, I'm going for a wedding, actually."

Castiel raises his eyebrows and begins chewing on his lip, "I see. Who's?"

Dean chuckles and runs his tongue across his bottom lip, which Castiel certainly notices right away, his eyes lingering on Dean's lips even after his tongue has pulled back into his mouth, "No, my brother Sam is getting married to this-this uh-"

Cas picks up on Dean's hesitation, "I'm guessing she's not appealing to you, is she?"

"Well, she's hot, I guess. Not that nice, though. To me at least."

Castiel almost lookes a little _disappointed_, and Dean has no idea why, but Castiel still manages to give Dean a warm smile, "That's usually how it goes, right?"

"Yeah, exactly." Dean chuckles, surprised that this guy could manage to even pull some humor into the conversation, and actually make him laugh even when it wasn't even remotely that funny.

Castiel parts his lips for a moments, eyes trailing down to his lap, "So, are you meeting anyone at the airport, or did you travel by yourself?"

_Yeah, yeah Dean mention you're engaged...to a really hot girl...yeah, yeah mention that._

"Oh, uh-no I'm traveling by myself. Sucks 'cause I really really hate flying." Dean mutters, balling his fists up and he grimaces at how sweaty his palms are.

_Don't you think he'd be interested to know you're getting married soon? You should tell him. Tell him it's a really hot girl. Tell him you're getting married to a really hot girl. He'd be **really** interested, don't you think?_

Castiel's eyes shoot up from his lap, his smile deepens so much his nose has crinkled at the top, "Yes, flying can be awful at times. I'm traveling alone as well. Except I'm not going to a wedding, I'm here for business." Castiel begins to rub his hands against his knees which is certainly way to distracting for Dean.

"What do you do?"

_Tell him you're fucking getting married, Dean!_

"Oh, it's a business trip for a payroll company I work for. I'm the CEO, so I get to travel a lot, for free mostly."

Dean's eyebrows almost raise off his head. This idiot in a trench coat, this damn idiot who travels _a lot _didn't know where the front of the line for the fucking airport security check was for Christ sake? If the guy's a CEO he can't be half as dumb as he seems to be. So clearly Dean hasn't had this guy figured out as well as he thought he did. At a loss for words, Dean just nods, happy to hear the pilot come across the intercom to break the conversation.

_**"May I have your attention please. This is your captain speaking. I would like to inform you that we are now an hour away from our destination. The flight attendants will be coming around shortly at your convenience to offer food and drinks. Thank you, and have a nice rest of the flight."**_

Dean bites the inside of his cheek, unsure of whether he would be happy to get away from this creep sitting next to him, or whether he would sad that he was going to probably forget those eyes of his. Or his deep, gravely voice, or the way Castiel's nose crinkled when he smiled, or the way his laugh was way to high pitched for his normal voice, or the way his dark brown hair looked as if he had just had a full-on wrestling match with a rabid squirrel and was sticking up in all different directions, or the way-

_Oh god, Dean. What have you gotten yourself into now?_

Dean reverts to the window for a while, trying hard not to look over to the seat next to him, but after a while, he just can't help himself. He looks over at Castiel, who to his surprise is leaning his head in his direction with his eyes closed again. Dean watches how calm he looks, slow and deep breaths making his chest rise and fall slowly, eyelashes fluttering every few seconds.

"Oh hon, why don't you just take a picture?"

Dean's gaze was broken from Castiel and is now fixed on Bela, who is standing over them with a rolling cart of chips and water.

Dean clenches his eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

Bela leans into their row, her eyes fixed sharply on Dean. Her lip curls to one side, "Oh, please. The last time someone gave me _that _look, I got laid."

Dean makes a choking sound in the back of his throat before he eyes Castiel to make sure his eyes were still shut, and thank _god, _they are. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Bela squints at him, her eyes small and beady, one eyebrow lifting just a little more than the other. "May I offer you chips or water, sir?"

"Oh, fuck off." Dean groans. He clenches his eyebrows as he returns his gaze back outside the window. Being attracted to Castiel was the upmost ridiculous thing that has ever crossed Dean's mind. He is a fucking _guy. _Alright, yeah, the guy has some attractive qualities, but so does George Clooney. Dean is getting married. Married to one hell of a girl, a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets. A tan, dark haired, brown eyed, hot girl.

_Well I mean MAYBE if she had eyes like Castiel, she'd be THAT much more hot..._

Dean pinches his arm.

_NO! No, no, no, no. Brown eyes. I like brown eyes. I can deal with brown eyes._

Dean leans his head back against the seat, exhaling a long, deep breath and closing his eyes as he attemptes to make sense of whatever the hell was going on in his head for the remainder of the flight.

* * *

><p>"Dean? Wake up, Dean."<p>

Dean hears himself grunt a loud snore as his eyes snap open. The plane's lights are blasting in his eyes, faintly being covered by a figure above him. His eyes burn a little as the air hits them, but they soon adapt enough to see that Castiel is hovering over him, the planes lights coming out in rays around his head.

"Huh?" Dean groans, sitting up in his chair trying to avoid the thought that maybe just for a second there, Castiel resembled a fucking angel with those damn rays of light coming around his head.

"You fell asleep for a while. I didn't want to wake you, but I also couldn't leave you here on the plane either." Castiel murmurs before leaning away from Dean just enough so Dean can peer over the head of the seat in front of him and see that the plane was basically almost completely empty.

Dean grunts, stretching his tight muscles out, "Shit, man. Thanks."

Castiel laughs, "Do you need help with bags or anything? Do you have something in the carry-on overhead that I can get for you?"

Dean stands, ducking so his head won't bash it into the low ceiling and make himself look more of a fool than he already probably has. He yawns as he steps into the main isle-way. He stops when he notices that Castiel has a pretty big wet spot right below his shoulder. "Uh, no I don't, thanks though. But-uh, Castiel? What happened to your-uh, coat?"

Castiel looks at his right shoulder, his mouth frowns a little before he looks back up at Dean and begins laughing almost hysterically, "You fell asleep, Dean. _On me._"

_Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit._

Dean covers one of his cheeks in attempt to hide the rosy, scarlet blush that has just plastered his face. "Oh, god, don't tell me..."

"It's totally fine, Dean." Castiel says laughing again, making his leave down the isle.

Dean quickly follows behind him, "You sure, man? I drooled on you. Oh, _god, _I'm so sorry, dude."

Castiel doesn't say anything as he continues to walk down the isle, but Dean manages to hear him chuckle, which doesn't help much with the embarrassment, but does help a little with the awkward aura that's around him.

Bela stands with another flight attendant at the front of the plane, and she's grinning at him, big and wide as she waits for him to get off. Castiel steps off and onto the platform, and just before Dean makes his leave, a hand rests on his shoulder and pulls him back.

"If I were you, I'd get on that." Bela whispers to him, before slightly pushing him forward a little. Dean turns around, almost tempted to _growl _at her, but instead he shoots her a smile with the word _sarcastic_ written all over it.

Dean makes his leave off the plane, and finds that Castiel has actually _waited _for him on the platform. His stomach flutters when he see's him standing there, a little flattered that Castiel has the decency to wait for him. But now Dean hasn't the slightest clue what to say to the guy, considering he had probably just spent the last hour of the flight drooling an ocean on Castiel's probably _really _expensive trench coat, not to mention the fact that he had probably been snoring directly into his ear.

"Did I snore?" Dean spits at him. And then Dean turns his head in the opposite direction and mouths, _'FUCK', _because that is so not what he wanted to say, and Castiel probably thinks Dean is the king of conversation starters with that dumb-ass move.

Castiel laughs, "A little bit. I didn't mind. Some other people probably did, however no one came to wake you up, so I'd say you're off the hook."

Dean smiles at Castiel's ability to make an awkward situation comfortable, "At least I didn't talk." Dean says, because _God_ knows what Dean would've said while his mind was in dream land. _  
><em>

"I never said you _didn't_ do that_._"

Dean whips his head towards Castiel and swallows so hard he almost chokes on his own spit.

_Oh, fuck._

They make it off the platform and into the airport before Castiel starts laughing hysterically again, "I'm kidding! God, you look like you've just seen a ghost. Having dreams that you don't want people knowing about, huh?"

Dean puts a heart over his chest and is surprised to find that it is still in tact with his body. He laughs, trying to hide the obvious nervous expression on his face, and he clearly wasn't succeeding with that due to the amusing look that Castiel has.

Dean parts his lips to say something, mainly attempting to say _goodbye, _considering they were now in the airport and they were going to have to go their separate ways eventually, but the words catch in his throat and he just stands there with his mouth slightly parted.

Cas grins, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Dean." He murmurs before he reaches an open hand out to him. Dean remembers the first time Castiel had reached his hand out and how he was a complete and total asshole about it and ignored him. Redeeming himself, Dean takes his hand and squeezes it hard without hesitation and is happy to feel the same warm, soft and kind of clammy hand that he had shaken before.

Dean gazes up at him, glad to reunite his honey green eyes with the ocean blue one's of Castiel for one last time.

Dean smiles before his phone starts blasting his his pocket, and he grabs it with his free hand, completely forgetting to let go of Castiel's with the other.

"Shit," Dean groans when he sees _'Sexiest Fiancé Ever' _was calling him. Nosy girl that Lisa is, she's probably been counting down the minutes to the end of Dean's flight.

"Everything okay?"

Dean scoffs, "Yeah, yeah, it's just my _girlfriend_." He says, before immediately drawing in a short quick breath when he realizes what he has just _done. _Castiel's hand stops squeezing Dean's and he lets go, and Dean balls up his fist, feeling his lungs shrink up when he see's the face that Castiel is making.

Castiel rubs his hand against his coat, "Ah, alright. But, look, I have to go-uh, meet my brother at baggage claim, so it was really nice chatting with you, Dean. I hope to see you around."

And just like that, Castiel is gone.

As much as Dean wants to follow him, he can't, so he curses to himself again before answering his phone.

"Hello?"

_"Dean! How was the flight?"_ Lisa's voice is muffled and excited through the phone, which quite frankly, pisses Dean off.

Dean turns himself around to avoid looking at Castiel as he walks away, "Great." Dean says as he rubs his now extremely sweaty hand across his throbbing forehead.

_"Good, good. So are you going to go straight to the hotel when you get out of the airport?"_

Dean shakes his head at the pointless question, "Yeah, hon."

Lisa is silent for a few moments, _"Are you alright, Dean? You seem-"_

Dean cuts her off, "Yeah, I'm just real tired. Jet-lagged."

_"Oh, alright. Will you shoot me a text when you get to the hotel? Just so I know you're safe?"_

Dean scoffs in the back of his throat. _Safe? So I'm safe? Since when do you care that I'm safe?_

Dean rolls his eyes, because Lisa's acting _wierd. _She's being _nice _to him. "Yeah, babe." He says with uncertainty.

_"Okay, Dean. I'll talk to you later."_ Lisa says slowly and deeply. And Dean nods when he hears Lisa's voice return to her normal _tone. _

Dean smiles, "Okay."

With that, Dean hangs up before he quickly turns around, frowning when he see's that there isn't a trench coat in sight.

* * *

><p>"Alright, were here, sir. Let me get your bags."<p>

Dean opens the door to the cab and stops to look at the absolutely gorgeous hotel that he really shouldn't be staying at, but his brother has paid for half of it on his request, which _really_ pisses him off.

His suitcase is set down in front of him, and the cab driver sticks out his hand like a gold-digger. He slaps the guy a tip, shooting him an annoyed glare before he grabs the handle and wheels it into the hotel.

A doorman is waiting for him, and slides the door open when Dean approaches.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Todd, and I will be your doorman here at the Hyatt Regency Hotel. Can I call someone over to assist you with your bags?"

Todd has the most ridiculous curled mustache that reminds Dean of _Captain Hook_, and it makes Dean want to rip it off and throw it at him. Working at a hotel like this, just opening doors for people would probably earn Todd more money in a month than Dean would earn in six, which _really_ pisses him off.

For some reason, everything is just _really_ _pissing him off._

"I'm all set, thanks." Dean murmurs.

"Alright, sir. Have a nice day!" Todd says before he smiles at him, which makes the curls of his mustache almost brush the bottom of his eyes.

Dean nods at him, making his way to the check-in counter. A girl with short dark hair smiles at him.

"Hello! Welcome to the Hyatt Regency, my name is Tessa. Checking in?"

"Yeah, reservation for Dean Winchester." Dean says, becoming even _more_ pissed off at her cheerful demeanor. If everyone at this hotel is going to be this happy all the time, Dean may as well just cancel his reservations now.

"Alright, you will be in room 4022. How many room keys would you like?"

"Just one please."

"Are you sure? Sometimes it's better to get two, just incase you lose one. Wouldn't want you getting stuck outside your room!" Tessa laughs, and Dean picks up the idea that he is supposed to laugh too, but Tessa is just so no funny in any way that he just ends up nodding his head.

Dean taps his fingers on the counter, "Yeah sure, two's fine."

"Alright, here you go, Dean." Tessa says as she hands him the room keys. Dean frowns as Tessa says his name, becoming even _more _pissed off that she isn't the dark haired blue eyed person that he'd had in mind.

"Thanks." Dean grunts as he takes them, not even bothering to return her smile.

The hotel is like a damn maze, and by the time Dean finally manages to find his room, he is just so damn exhausted that he just leans against the door and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. He swears he is there for hours before he hears the hotel room door squeak open next to him and the sound of shoes shuffling. The shuffling then comes to a complete halt.

Dean hears someone draw a quick breath in.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes shoot up and his stomach practically falls right out of his butt, because he would recognize that deep, low, gravely voice anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean's mouth gapes open and his jaw drops completely when his eyes meet the one's that he _never_ thought he would see again. "Cas-Castiel? What-What are you-I just-what?" He stutters. Dean feels his heart pounding against his ribs and it irritates him because he has no idea why his body is acting the way it is.

_Oh god...this isn't happening...please tell me this isn't happening right now..._

Castiel looks as astounded as Dean does. "Dean," He gasps, "What are you doing here?"

Dean's heart is pounding. His eyes are wide and he feels like he just swallowed a butterflies nest. "I-this-it's uh, my hotel."

Castiel grins slyly. "Small world. It's mine too. I'm in 4024." He says as he takes a few steps closer to Dean, his smile beaming at him.

Dean feel's his eye twitch.

_Holy. Fucking. Shit. _

Dean's at a loss or words, and he stands there in front of the guy like a monument frozen for eternity. His stomach is twisting in all sorts of directions, and he has no idea how he feels about this. Castiel is still grinning at him, and it soon spreads into a gummy smile. Dean's eyes trail over Castiel's lips, and his heart nearly _explodes. _

"I take it you're surprised to see me." He says.

_Yes. Yes I'm fucking surprised to see you. _

Dean parts his mouth, but finds it _extremely _difficult to put what he wants to say into words, mainly because he doesn't _know _what to say at all. He's doesn't _want_ to be happy that Castiel is here, but his body disagrees. So, he settles for the only thing his body will allow him to say. "Holy fucking _shit._" He says breathlessly.

Castiel laughs, "So that's definitely a yes."

Dean shuts his eyes and scoffs before he's finally comes to his senses. "I just-_wow-_I can't believe you're here, Castiel." He says, his jaw still dropped. He feels his palms begin to sweat furiously, and he hasn't the slightest clue why he's so nervous. Yeah, it was a _very _small world indeed, but Dean knows he is way more shocked than he should be.

"Please," Castiel says as he smiles and shakes his head, "Call me Cas."

Dean's finding it difficult to speak, so he just nods his head and tries to play it as cool as possible, but he knows he's failing. _Miserably_. "Uh-wow. This-it's uh, it's real weird, man."

Cas raises his eyebrows as he nods, "It is. Very strange indeed."

Dean calms down enough to breathe normally now, and his face is beginning to turn back to its original color. He still knows he's making more of a fool of himself than he ever has before in his life, and he feels himself begin to heat up. "How long are you here for?"

_Fuck! _Dean thinks, balling up his fists, _why would you ask him that? Why?_

Cas takes in a deep breath, "Not sure. These meetings can go on forever, to be honest. Could be a few days, could be more. I'm not sure yet. How about you?"

Dean feels an immense amount of bliss run across his body. He smiles, knowing that he will be able to see those eyes of his more and more.

_Shit. NO. NO. NO. NO! _

Dean huffs, "Well the wedding is two days from now, and starts around 9 on Saturday. There will probably be a party or two, so I'd say about a week tops."

Cas looks _extremely _satisfied with Dean's answer. He nods his head, eyes falling to Dean's lips, then back up to his eyes again, and Dean feels his lungs shrink. "Oh, very cool. Are you excited?"

"Yeah, Sammy and I are real close. Hate to see him getting married to _Bridezilla, _but the girl makes him happy. Wearing a suit, though, is _so _not my style. Can't even tie my own damn tie. "

Cas laughs, adjusting the blue tie around his neck. "Well, as you can see, I'm wearing one now, and I can assure you I've had years of practice. If you need my assistance, please don't hesitate to knock."

Dean freezes, because _that _was most definitely an _invite. __  
><em>

Dean looks at the blue tie, and smiles when it reminds him of Castiel's eyes. His eyes involuntarily drag over the rest of Castiel's chest, and _god, _this guy is _definitely _a runner. It's hard to see the muscles through his shirt, but Dean can see that even through the trench coat and suit that Castiel is very well built. He wonders how his chest would look without the trench coat, or the suit jacket, or..._the shirt entirely. _

_Oh god, oh god, oh god. Dean Winchester, you are screwed. So very screwed. _

Dean clears his throat. "Thanks, Cas. I appreciate it." He says, surprised at how easily his name just slides off his tongue. And it just feels so..._right. _

"Of course. It's my pleasure, Dean." Cas smiles, curling his tie around his finger, "But anyways, I have to go meet my brother, Gabriel, outside the hotel. If I'm late he'll turn into a moody teenage girl." He laughs, rolling his eyes. Dean smiles at Cas' ability to make himself laugh. It's_ cute._

Dean wipes his palms on his pants because they're so sweaty it's almost horrifyingly disgusting. Cas is still smiling at him and Dean's finding it extremely difficult to breathe.

Cas outstretches a hand, "It was great talking, Dean. I'm glad we're friends, and I'm looking forward to talking with you more."

And of course, Cas had to extend his hand when Dean's sure his palms were the most sweaty and unappealing they'd ever been in his life. But Dean can't deny a perfectly good handshake opportunity when he see's one, so he stretches his hand out and wraps it warm and clammy against Castiel's.

Dean's surprised to find that Castiel's hands are just as sweaty as his are. There's this wave of heat against Dean's fingers, and it spreads to his chest and makes him actually, physically, _shiver. _

"Yeah-uh, yes. I am too." Dean nods. He wants to yank his hand away but it feels superglued to Cas' skin, and it isn't until Castiel slowly pulls his hand out of Dean's grasp, brushing the tips of Dean's fingers before Dean finds that he can breathe again.

Castiel squints and grins mischievously, as if he knows something Dean doesn't. Castiel smiles at him one last time before making his leave down the hallway, and Dean follows him with his eyes until he turns and is out of sight.

Dean's feet are numb. His eyes are trailing around the room, trying to make sense of what just happened.

And as he stares blankly at the empty hall in front of him, he realizes there's now two things he knows for sure:

1. He is uncontrollably, undoubtably, and _wildly_ attracted to Castiel Milton.

2. He is: _So. Fucking. Screwed.__  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>"Hey, Dean! How was the plane ride? Okay? Did you throw up?"<em>

Dean sits on the hotel bed and holds his cell phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he takes his shoes off. "It was fine. And no, jerk, I didn't throw up."

Sam muffles a slow laugh on the other line, _"Wow. How did you manage that?"_

Dean grunts, "Sam. It's a fucking plane, not a roller coaster descending into Hell."

_"Hey, I remember somebody being terrified shitless of planes not more than a year ago. What happened to that guy? Get distracted?"_

_Shit... _Dean thinks with a heavy breath, _I was distracted..._

_"Dean?"_

Dean clears his throat, "Yeah sorry, I-uh, no. I just fell asleep is all." He groans as he lays back on his bed. Dean's been afraid of planes for majority of his life, and all it takes is one guy to distract him?

_"Alright, sure, Dean."_ Sam says with another laugh, _"Oh, and also, I have news."_

Dean's body hitches and he sits up in bed, "You dumped Ruby? Oh please tell me you dumped Ruby!" He says excitedly.

_"You're on speaker phone, jackass!"_

Dean cracks up, "Whoops, _my bad. _Sorry I'm _not_ sorry, Ruby." He says sarcastically, and he hears Ruby huff on the other line. "Sammy, take me off speaker, would ya?"

_"You're off,"_ Sam clears his throat, _"C'mon man, you know I'm not dumping Ruby."_

Dean falls back on the bed, his body deflating. "I know, unfortunately. So what's the news?"

_"We postponed the wedding."_

And just like that, Dean's sitting back up on the bed again, "What? Why? Sam! I don't-I can't stay in this hotel-the money-"

_"I know,"_ Sam cuts him off, his voice is deep and serious. _"That's why I'm going to take care of it, alright? It's been moved to Wednesday."_

Dean's jaw drops, "Wednesday? Are you fucking kidding me? It's Thursday! I hardly even have enough clothes to last me 'til Sunday!" Dean runs his hand over his forehead when he feel's it beginning to throb. He pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sam, I can't stay in this hotel And Lisa...god, Lisa will be pissed."

_"Yes you can! And you will! I told you I'm taking care of the money, alright? And since when do you give a fuck what Lisa thinks? What she's _done_ to you, how she treats you is unex-"_

"Stop, Sam." Dean huffs. He does _not _want to talk about this right now. He plops his butt on the bed with a loud grunt. Sam's right, Lisa is the last thing he needs to be worrying about, but he _is _worrying about the expenses here. He's lucky his brother is a fancy, rich-ass lawyer who can afford to stay in nice hotels like this for more than a week. "I'm saving up enough money from the shop and paying you back. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Dean's headache spreads. It's going to take him _months _to earn enough money at the repair shop to pay his brother back. He's been putting little pieces of his earnings into a savings account since he got the mechanic job when he was 27. Three years later, he figures he has enough money to pay for _at least _a week at the hotel. Probably less.

Sam takes a slow breath, _"You don't have to Dean. I'm your brother. I _want_ to do these things for you."_

"You really think that's gonna cut it, Sammy? It's a no. I'm repaying you every penny. And don't argue with me 'cause you ain't gettin' anywhere."

The phone is silent for a while and all Dean hears is the pounding in his head.

_"I don't understand why you can't just let me help y-"_

"Sam..." Dean growls as he clenches his eyebrows. He's _so _not in the mood to do this right now, and all he want's to do is close his eyes and fall asleep. He was used to Sam asking to help him, but Dean knows he'll always be too stubborn to say yes. It's not that he doesn't _need _help, it just that he doesn't _want _it.

Sam sighs, _"Alright, Dean."_ He says. Dean hears Ruby call Sam's name on the other line. _"Dean I have to go."_

Dean smiles, "Man, Sammy. You are _so _whipped."

_"Shut up, Dean!"_

"If I say yes to you helping me, will you dump the bitch?" Dean laughs.

_"Goodbye, Dean."_

Dean can practically hear Sam's bitch-face when he hangs up. Dean slumps his stomach on his bed. It's only been 10 hours since he's left New York, and he's already desperate to go back home. He's probably only got clothes to last him until Sunday, not to mention he's probably going to spend the rest of his money here. Dean's head is throbbing and he closes his eyes as he lets his body drift of to sleep.

And somewhere in the midst of all this madness, Dean see's the smallest spark of light at the end of the tunnel.

He's smiling when he closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep, dreaming of blue eyes and dark hair, sweaty palms and blue ties and trench coats.

* * *

><p>Dean wakes up a few hours later, and his headache is gone. He rubs his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom and starts the shower. He needs one badly, considering he's been sweating like a pig since the middle of the flight. And his <em>dreams <em>did not help.

This is bad. Very bad. He knows that the more time he spends with Castiel, the more difficult it will be to say goodbye. He's in a relationship_, _and he can't seem to understand why he can't grasp the fact that he's _engaged_. He's been with Lisa for three years. _Three years_ he's been in this relationship, yet he still feels like something is missing. Lisa had done bad things, _terrible things, _that left cracks in their relationship. Dean's done everything he can to patch and tape them up, and suddenly it's as if the tape is tearing apart, and all the cracks are showing.

Dean stops his thoughts, because it's not at all what he wants to be thinking about.

_What the fuck's gotten into you, Winchester? Pull yourself together!_

He pinches the bridge of his nose before he removes his clothes and steps into the hot water. He shuts his eyes and tries to think of Lisa's beautiful brown eyes. He tries to think of her body against his, and the way she kisses him. And it's slowly fading. Fading into blue eyes, _his _body against his. The way _he _would kiss him.

Dean's eyes snap open. He parts his mouth and breathes heavily, "Stop, Dean. Stop, stop, _stop._" He whispers as he pounds his fist against the shower wall.

He gets out of the shower quickly, throws on a tattered pair of basketball shorts and a Led Zeppelin tee before he flops into bed again. Dean eyes are tightly shut, and he begins to breathe slowly, and he calms himself down with the thought of blue eyes again. He goes to twist the ring on his finger.

His eyes snap open.

It's _gone._

The ring is _gone. _

Dean's body jolts out of bed as he rushes to the bathroom. His hands are scrambling on the floor, and his heart begins to pound the more he looks, because he _can't find it. _He looks in the shower, in the room, under the bed, and he practically tears apart his suitcase and backpack. And it's _not there. _Sam's ring. The silver ring Sam gave him for his twenty-first birthday, is _gone. _

Dean panics, his hands finding his hair and roughly entwining his fingers in the strands, "No..." He whispers. This silver little circle has helped Dean through some of the worst times of his life by reminding him that Sam was always going to be his brother, and that Sam was always going to be there for him. And he _lost it._

Dean stops breathing. "I left it on the plane!" He yells, remembering it clearly now. He'd took it off and set it down in the bathroom when he washed his hands. "How could I forget to take it?!"

_Cas._

He'd been thinking about Cas.

Dean feels the heat rise in his stomach. He'd lost his brothers ring, because he'd been too caught up in a _guy_? Dean has just lost the most important thing in his life because of a _stupid_, _fucking_ _guy_.

Dean's stomach twists as he kicks the side of the bed, "Fuck! Are you fucking kidding me?! FUCK!" He screams as he paces in his room. His headache returns, and it's throbbing furiously against his skull.

Sam was going to be _so _disappointed in him. His brother was going to _hate_ him, just like his Dad. For being an absolute _fuck up. _The heat rose to his face, turning his cheeks red.

Dean slips on his shoes, grabs a gray hoodie out of his bag, and strides angrily out the door. He's so angry he can't think straight, and Dean's sure his legs aren't working properly. He collide's with someone as he's walking down the hall.

Dean's too angry to apologize, let alone look up. He keeps walking, when suddenly a strong hand grips his shoulder.

"Dean?"

Dean looks up.

_Oh you have got to be **fucking** kidding me._

"Out of everyone I could've bumped into, it had to be you! God dammit, Cas!" He yells, and he feels the upmost urge to punch Castiel in the face for the way he's staring at him, because his eyes are _not _helping.

He shoves Castiel off him and continues walking down the hall. His head is buzzing and throbbing and all he knows at the moment is that he needs a _drink._

Castiel runs after him and cuts in front of him, blocking Dean from the hallway, "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Get the fuck out of my way, Cas." Dean spits at him as he tries to shove Castiel away, but he doesn't budge.

"Did something happen?" Cas says, his voice low and deep. And it makes Dean even angrier because _that's _the whole reason he's in this mess anyways.

"Yes," Dean snaps as he clenches his jaw, "_You_ happened."

The look that forms in Castiel's eyes is something that Dean has never seen before. His face sinks, and all that's left is a slightly parted mouth and glassy eyes.

Castiel flinches and his mouth is twitching as it tries to search for words, "I don't, I don't underst-"

Dean shoves Cas hard. He knows if he doesn't walk away _now, _he won't be able to walk away at all. "Fuck you, Castiel. I wish I had _never _met you." He screams at him as he continues down the hall.

Dean hears Castiel whimper something, but Dean ignores it, because it's _all his fault._ Dean won't stand to hear or look at Cas for another moment, and it leads him outside the hotel, where he boards a hotel shuttle bus heading towards the closest bar in sight.

Dean curses to himself the whole ride there.

When the car pulls up to the bar, Dean slams the car door, not even bothering to acknowledge the driver, and makes his way to the old wooden building. Dean looks up at the ratty old sign above the door reading: _The Roadhouse, _and he pushes the door to the bar open, sending the wooden doors smashing against the wall. There's people staring at him, but he doesn't care. A girl with wavy blonde hair approaches him from behind the counter as he sits in a stool.

"Someone's definitely not having a good night." She says to him as she pours a glass of vodka and sets it down in front of him. "On the house."

Dean looks at her and nods, "Thank you." He groans.

She's stares down at him cunningly, her brown eyes intimidating and daunting. "Name's Jo." She says as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

Dean manages to curl his lips slightly. She would've definitely been someone Dean would take home if he were single. Her body was slim and hostile, and Dean knew she'd be a good catch. "Thanks, Jo."

Jo nods at him and places a beer in front of him before she turns away. Dean watches her leave and sips down the vodka in one gulp. He cringes when it slides down his throat. He doesn't hesitate, and he grabs the beer from the counter and sips that too. Dean wants to get drunk. He wants to forget. He _needs _to forget blue eyes and dark hair.

His encounter with Cas is playing on repeat in his head. He swallows hard, because he knows he said things back there that he wished had never left his mouth, let alone even cross his mind.

_I wish I had never met you._

Dean smacks himself in the head.

_You fucking idiot!_

He takes a deep breath and buries his face in his hands. He knows it isn't Castiel's fault. He just needs someone to blame, because it's easier than blaming himself.

"Need to talk?"

Dean looks up and Jo's sitting in the stool next to him. She purses her lips at him, and a formidable vibe radiates off her skin. "No." Dean says dryly.

Jo laughs, "Oh, please, you look like you just got hit by a train."

Dean feels a heavy weight against his chest. "Something like that." He groans.

She sighs, and her fingers begin to tap on the counter. "And let me guess, you wanna get real drunk, 'cause you think it'll help?"

Dean lifts his face from his hands to look at her. Her eyes seem to read right through him. He looks away, "Just get me another vodka, huh?"

Jo takes a deep breath, "Look, I don-"

"Just do it! I'm the fucking customer!" Dean snaps at her. Eyes lock on him again, and he feels like the world is watching him.

"Jo, what's going on here?"

Dean turns and see's a much older woman with darker hair standing behind the counter. Her eyes are the same as Jo's, hostile and threatening, and Dean doesn't need to guess anymore than once to know that the woman is Jo's mother.

"Nothing, mom." Jo spits.

"'_Nothing, Mom' _my ass." She spits right back. Her eyes are taking turns switching from Jo to Dean. "Jo, wanna introduce me to your new friend?"

Dean tilts his head, and he's sure that Jo's mom is by far the scariest woman he's ever encountered. Jo clears her throat, "I wouldn't call us _friends_, mom."

"Introduce me anyways."

Jo exchanges a look with Dean and Dean pulls his hand forward. "Dean Winchester," He says. Her shake is firm and solid.

She grins, "Ellen Harvelle." She lets go of his hand and turns her head to Jo. "I see you've met my daughter, Jo." Dean nods. He's really not in the mood to talk to anyone, but he's scared to stop talking to Ellen, because she's _that much _intimidating. Ellen cocks her head at him, "Hon, you look like you just got hit by a train."

Dean can't help but smile, "Like mother like daughter," He says as he tips the beer to his lips, "Jo said the same thing. That obvious, huh?" Dean swigs his beer.

Ellen and Jo exchange laughs, "Order anything you want, sweetie. It's on us tonight." Ellen says before she disappears into the back room.

Jo pats him on the back, "Well, Dean, call me over when you need another one." She says with a dry smile.

And Dean does just that.

He does it over and over again, until he feels like he's going to be sick. The alcohol hits him all at once, and now he's singing along to a song that's playing behind the counter on the radio that he can't hear, but he's cursing out loud because the _person singing __on the radio_ has the words _wrong. _Dean's voice is staggering all over the place along with the rest of his body, and he swings his arms around some blonde chick and kisses her cheek.

Dean presses his face close to the girl's neck, "And-who-uh-what's you-you are, ugh, your name, blondie?"

The girl laughs and leans against the pool table, "Oh babe, you are _way _to drunk for me. Sober up and we'll talk," She grins against his cheek before she runs her lips over the bone, "Name's Lilith."

Dean hooks his arm around her waist and presses himself into her, not because he wants to touch her, but mainly because he's having trouble holding himself up. "Mmm, baby, y-you, did I e'r tell y-you that you're _soooooo_ warm." He says. His head falls to the crease of her neck.

Liilith leans away, "Mmm, boy. You are _gone._" She says as she pulls away from the pool table. Dean tries to follow her, but he hits his shoulder when he stumbles slightly, knocking against an older woman. Dean grunts, and eyes the drink in her hand. He doesn't know what's in it, but he snatches the glass from her in one quick moment before he chugs the remaining contents.

The woman gasps, "Hey! What the-"

Dean places his finger on her lips and giggles, "Shhhh. Y-you ma'am, 're speak'n real loud." He says, and the woman swats his hand away and pushes past him.

Dean's body flings around as he watches her leave, "Well, fine! I don't nee' no girl. Imma stong inde-independent man, who don' nee' nobody!" He spits, and some people move away from him. He laughs at them, because they don't know how much _fun _Dean's having. He's enjoying himself more than he's ever in years. He can't tell what's real, or what's in his head, and he _loves _it.

He hurls his body to the counter and leans all his weight into it. Jo see's him and walks over, her face baffled.

"Dean, you should probably stop drinking alcohol." She says quietly.

Dean rests his chin on the counter as he lifts his finger and puts it on her nose, "See, th' only thing t-that went in my ear, was _you _'nd uh- _alcohol_. Soo let's make it 'appen, huh?" Dean pinches her nose, and Jo pulls away as she shakes her head.

"No, Dean!" She yells.

Dean pushes himself off the counter and backs up with long, slow strides. "C'mon! What's it take 'ta get some alc-alcohol 'round here!?" Dean opens his arms to her, one out on each side of his body.

He turns and locks his eyes on who he _thinks _is Lilith, or Leona, and frankly Dean can't remember her name and frankly, he doesn't care. "Yooo, girl!" He calls as he swings his legs in her direction, but accidentally bumps into one of the men playing pool. The man turns to him slowly, and Dean can't make out the expression on his face all too well, but he knows that it's not good._  
><em>

The man shoves him, "You fucking kidding me, kid?"

Dean's pushed so his back hits a table, "Woah, guy, I don't wan' no trouble. Don' mess with me!" He yells at him, swatting his hand against his arm like there was a mosquito on it.

The man grunts as he grabs the collar of Dean's shirt, shoving him so the table falls behind him. The table hits the ground with a loud crash, and all eyes lock on them.

Another man grabs the guy's shoulder, "Gordon, come on, he's just drunk. He doesn't know what he's doing."

Gordon, which Dean concludes is the man that is only inches from his face, shoves Dean more before he turns his head. "Shuddup, Vic! Fuckin' kid has been a little shit all night long! I'm sick of it!"

Dean wraps his hands around Gordon's wrist, and shoves him with as much force as there is left in his body. Gordon keels a little and Dean laughs as he frees himself from his grasp. "Ha-ha! You lose!" Dean yells. He flips him off and waves his finger around as if it's some kind of trophy. Dean's happy and he isn't going to let an old fart like this guy ruin his night.

Gordon growls, "Oh, boy, you're gonna regret that, you fucker." He says. His legs stride towards Dean, and in one brisk move, his fist collides with the left corner of his jaw. Dean swoons against the counter and knocks his head hard on one of the stools. Dean's skull feels like its just broke in half, and there's a blaring pain piercing his face.

In fear of being hit again, Dean swings his arms out at the man, but all he see's is a shapeless figure reaching for his collar. Dean whacks him hard in the eye, and he feels his knuckles crack against Gordon's cheek, even though his hands are numbed.

"You fucker!" Gordon snarls before he hits Dean with a forward uppercut. And _oh_ _boy, _Dean felt that one. He feels his teeth clash onto his lip, and suddenly his whole tongue swirls around a puddle of blood. And another one comes, this time it hits Dean in the eye, and then his eyelashes cover with red droplets that seeps into Dean's eye.

"You sonuvabitch!" Dean shouts. His lips are numb, and he feels trickles of blood seeping down his throat. Dean can't feel anything, but at the same time, he feels _everything. _His body tingles and is numb, yet he feels every ounce of pain as it transfers into his core.

Gordon is suddenly pulled off him by two strong arms.

"Gordon Walker! You get outta my bar this instant! You hear me?"

There's faint arguing but Dean can't seem to hear it. His ears are buzzing when his eyes struggle to adjust as the room spins around him. His head throbs and he hears soft whimpers that are too loud for his brain to process and its extremely overwhelming.

Dean feel someone's arms grasp his shoulders and haul him up. Dean feels a heavy grip on his back, and his other arm is over someone's shoulders. He hears low yells that are echoing through his ears that he can't make out. He's not really sure what his legs are doing, but they're moving in motion with the hands around his back.

There's a sudden blow of cool air on his face and he knows he's outside. He has a moment where he forgets who he is, and he's left with this loud buzz in his head. And he feels his stomach twist, and he gags and chokes before he finally feels himself bend and hurl a decent amount of alcohol in his stomach. The hands are rubbing his back. There's a strong bitter taste in the back of his throat but he feels a little bit better now that theres not as much alcohol in his system.

He see's a whip of blonde hair sweep across his eyes. "Jo.." He whispers, and his throat burns. He see's a pair of brown eyes before they turn away, and he's being hauled into the passenger's seat of a car. Dean closes his eyes and tries to remember why he's at the bar. He tries to remember why he's in California, but it seems to have slipped his mind. _Everything _has seemed to slip his mind.

Jo leans into him and hits him on the side of the face. "Hey, you with me, bud? Where you staying? I'm taking you home."

Dean watches her lips move, but it's blurry and slow, and his ears work just well enough that he makes out just the word _'home'_. He parts his lips and lets out a breath before he stifles a whimper, "Hy-Hyatt." He groans, and he still tastes the faint flavor of blood and acid in his throat.

"The Regency?"

Dean nods.

The car starts, and Dean feels his body vibrate against the engine. He's moving, and there's lights whipping by in the window. Big, blurry spots of brightness pass him, and he make's out the blurred vision of a pole, a stop sign and trees. He closes his eyes for a second, or for what he _thinks _is a second, and suddenly the car comes to a halt, and Dean gasps as his eyes snap open. Moments later Dean feels the hands on his shoulder again. He's dragged out of the car, and there's a heavy weight that's pressing down on him that makes it hard for him to stand.

"Okay, Dean. What room number. Can you remember what room number you are?"

Dean's head still throbs, and he's trying to think. It hard to think with the lump that's stuck in his throat, and his body feels hot and sweaty.

And he remembers a voice. A deep low gravely one echoes in his ear.

_"Small world. It's mine too. I'm in 4024."_

Dean coughs, "4024. Take-take me to 4024." He breathes. And he's being dragged now, because his legs have decided to go full out M.I.A on him. He blinks, and it feels slow, like he's missed a chunk of time in only a quarter of a second. He blinks, and he's in the lobby. And then he blinks again, and he's in the elevator. Once more, and now he's in the hallway.

He hears Jo counting, and then she stops and sets him down on the ground against the wall. He blinks, and there's two figures over him and now he's unable to see or hear anyone, and there's just these faint colorful shapes moving above him. He's keeling over, and his head feels like its fifty pounds and getting heavier by the second, and soon he's unable to keep it up anymore, and its falls hard on the ground.

Then he feels someone wrap their arms around the bends of his knees, and then the arch of his back, and then he's floating. He still hears buzzing and he starts to feel the pain that resides in his face from the fight.

He blinks one last time, and see's blue eyes, bright and glistening into his.

And it's the last thing Dean can remember before he blacks out.


	3. Chapter 3

It's a strong smell that hits him hard the next morning.

It makes him want to be sick, but it also smells _extremely _good, but mostly, it just makes him want to be really sick. He feels it growing and building in his stomach, and then it slaps him straight in the face, and before he's registered what's going on or where the hell he is, he hops off of the mattress and runs straight into the bathroom, slams the door, and leans over the toilet.

Dean's body was shivering and he could feel this terrible throbbing in his head as he continued to hurl up whatever was left in his stomach from last night. There's a pounding in his chest that he's not entirely sure is his heart, and it starts to calm down when he's finished and just leaning his head against the side of the toilet seat.

His head is still throbbing rapidly, and his breathing starts to reside, and all he can taste is this weird, bitter acid and the slightest faint flavor of whiskey. Dean barely remembers anything of what happened last night, so he decides to run his hand over his face to rid the sweat, but then realizes it's an _extremely _bad idea when he feels his face ache and sting underneath his hand.

_Shit. _

It's all coming back. Not _all _of it, but little bits and pieces of it that Dean really wishes he hadn't remembered.

There was alcohol, _lots _of alcohol, and a girl that he can't really remember her face but he remembers that she was one hell of a lady. And then there was more alcohol, and fighting, _lots _of fighting.

He grimaces as he flushes the toilet and stands, walking over to the mirror and taking a good, long look at himself.

_Holy shit._

There's one _hell _of a bruise under and around his left eye, followed by a small nick above his right eyebrow, and a little gash on his bottom lip that decided to start bleeding a little bit, and was now leaking tiny droplets of blood down his chin.

_Holy fuck._

Distracted for a while with the marks on his face, Dean finally realizes something.

This is not his bathroom. His bathroom is way smaller, and this one is almost _twice _the size of his. And most importantly, he realizes that he was not wearing the shirt he had on when he left with last night. God for bid, he's not wearing _any _of the clothes he had on last night. He _is _wearing a t-shirt and shorts, be he doesn't even recognize the clothes as being stuff that he owns.

_Holy fucking shit._

Dean knows he didn't go home with anyone last night, because he knows he's in the hotel from the looks of the bathroom. He swallows hard, stepping slowly outside the bathroom, and into a much bigger hotel room than his. The bed is a king, not a queen, and there's a huge double screen door leading out to a balcony, which Dean doesn't have. There's a door opening in front of the bed, and Dean slowly creeps to it.

"Another fucking room?" Dean whispers, coming across a T.V. that is is fucking gigantic, complete with DVD player and sound station, both of which Dean does not have in his room. There's a black leather sofa and love-seat in front of it, complete with glass coffee table and everything. He turns to his right, and then comes to a complete halt.

_Oh my fucking GOD._

"Good morning, Dean. I hope I didn't wake you."

Dean's jaw drops as he stares at Castiel, behind a kitchen counter, _shirtless, _and making breakfast. Dean parts his mouth, but there is nothing on this Earth that he can say right now because the air has been completely sucked out of him.

Cas steps out from behind the counter, so Dean has a _full view. _And Dean's almost 100% positive that he forgets how to breathe, because Castiel _definitely _works out. There's not an ounce of fat on the guys body, just full, pure, muscle. Not like carved and photoshopped abs, but definitely muscular enough. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that are a little too big for him, and they fall ever so slightly that they're resting on the points of his hipbones, just enough that Dean can see the "V" of his hips.

Dean's eyes fall across his body and he tries to pull them back up to meet Castiel's eyes, but its nearly impossible. He's finally able to gather enough willpower to lock his eyes back up Castiel's.

Dean grips his stomach, a sudden strange feeling twists around and he debates whether to run to the bathroom or not incase he might be sick again. But he realizes, he doesn't feel sick, _at all. _He knows this feeling. He's felt it all too much. He moves his hands from his stomach down slowly and casually, palming himself over his basketball shorts, and he freezes.

Dean's _hard._

Dean's _horny. _

He swallows, scared that Cas might look down and realize his _situation. _Dean's eyes find Castiel's again, and _thank god, _he doesn't notice at all. He crosses his legs a little, pulling the t-shirt down a little bit in attempt to cover the slight bulge in his pants.

"Why am I-why are you-" Dean stutters, gesturing to himself, then to Castiel. Castiel's smiling brightly and it's making Dean's heart flutter.

"Why are you here?" Castiel says, finishing for him. He crosses his arms over his chest and Dean's almost a little disappointed at the loss of vision.

_No! Stop! He's a fucking guy! C'mon Winchester, you're not gay! Think of boobs!_

Dean manages to only nod. Castiel walks by him and over to his dresser as he pulls out a plain black t-shirt and slings it over his body. "Sorry," He groans, "I wasn't expecting you to wake up for a while. I meant to put the shirt on a while ago, but you didn't appear to be waking up anytime soon, so..." He says as he shrugs his shoulders.

Dean furrows his brow, because that doesn't answer his question about why the hell he's in Castiel's room. Castiel walks by him again, returns to the kitchen and turns off the stove. He takes pancakes off the pan and slides them onto a plate before adding a dab of butter, syrup, and some cut up strawberries. Castiel smiles at Dean as he puts the plate on the counter.

"I made breakfast if you want some." He says.

Now that everything's out of his stomach and he feels a little bit better despite the mild headache, Dean is hungry, and he's not going to pass up free food when it's blatantly sitting right there in front of him. He bites his tongue, walks over to the counter and sits in a wooden stool and pulls the plate in front of him.

Thankfully, Dean's _situation_ has dimmed down enough that he can sit down normally without having to worry.

Castiel is still smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

Dean looks up at him with a mouthful of pancakes. "Fine." He mutters.

"Are you sure?" Castiel groans apprehensively, "You were rather ill last night."

Dean chews his food slowly. Castiel is staring at him with this odd look that makes Dean's chest feel _wierd. _Castiel's eyes are making it hard for him to swallow his food, and when he does, there's this really big lump in his throat.

Dean's hands start to sweat again. "I don't remember last night too well." He says, and then realizes that was a really bad idea because he knows Cas is going to tell him what happened, and Dean really doesn't need to hear about how he probably made a fool of himself.

Castiel laughs. "Well you were quite intoxicated, I can tell you that. Uh, a lovely girl brought you here, told me that you asked her to bring you to _my _room."

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. Why did I say Cas' room? Fuck! _

"I, uh-I," Dean falters, but there's really no excuse he can come up with fast enough to get him through that one. He said Cas' room because it was the only thing he could remember, and if Dean told Castiel that...

"It's alright, Dean. I didn't mind at all. I'm glad you're alright."

Dean swallows. He feels like _shit. _Castiel took him in, took care of him when he didn't deserve to be taken care of. What Dean said to Castiel last night, was _not _okay. Dean had blamed Cas for everything, even when the only person to blame was himself. And he feels like fucking _shit. _

Dean can't even bring himself to apologize. Because he's _scared. _He's _terrified._

"Yes, uh, thank you, Cas." Is all Dean manages to mutter out.

Cas nods. It's silent for a while, and Dean tries to eat but his appetite is slowly fading and all he feels is this nervous hole being carved in the center of his chest.

"How does your face feel?"

Dean looks up from his plate and meet's those damn eyes of his again. He laughs, "Pretty bad, huh?"

Cas returns the gesture as he walks past Dean and sits in the stool beside him. "No. I'd say it's a step up, to be fairly honest." He smiles.

Dean laughs and throws his head back as he grabs his stomach. "Oh thank God. I guess I can cancel my appointment with my plastic surgeon."

Cas giggles, and Dean just watches as his nose crinkles and his gums peak out from his mouth, and there's this one moment where he can feel everything else just disappear completely, and it's just him and Castiel. Cas leans into him, his eyes fixing sharply on the gash right above his eyebrow. His thumb brushes against it, and Dean feels a small sting when Cas' skin touches his.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Dean." Cas whispers, and Dean can smell hot breath lingering on his neck that smells like fresh spearmint toothpaste and coffee.

There's suddenly a loud blaring bang at the door, and Cas jumps and pulls his hand away from Dean's face.

Cas clears his throat and looks at the silver watch on his wrist. "Shit, he's early."

Dean swallows.

_He?_

"Who's early?" Dean asks, standing from his stool.

Cas opens the door which is adjacent to the kitchen, and some little, pudgy looking guy barges right past him and into the room.

"Oh boy, Cassie, you have really out done yourself with this place." He says, his eyes wandering aimlessly around the room. His eyes land on Dean and he grins almost as big as the fucking Cheshire Cat_. _"And who's this? Cas, did you buy yourself another _Abercrombie_ model?"

Dean narrows his brows and he parts his mouth. "What?"

Castiel steps out from behind the guy, who's still grinning widely at Dean, making him uncomfortable. "Dean, this is my brother, Gabriel Milton. Gabe, this is my friend, Dean Winchester."

Dean lurks at the word '_friend'. _

Gabriel steps forward and reaches his hand out, "Good to meet ya, Dean-o. Damn, nice shiner there, bud."

Dean's almost reluctant to take it, because holy _shit, _he thinks this guy has lost every single one of his fucking marbles. Just the way his face is built makes him looks all kinds of crazy, and the way he's talking to Dean isn't really making him seem less insane. But, for Castiel's sake, Dean reaches his hand out and shakes it. "Bar fight."

Gabriel is still grinning at him. "Call me Gabe." He says with a laugh, eyeing Dean's bruise.

Dean nods. It's oddly weird for Dean, to start meeting Cas' family. It's not like it was planned, but still, it feels compellingly strange, and the way Gabe is staring at him like he's hiding something makes Dean feel like he just needs to run as far away from the hotel as possible.

"I didn't expect you this early. I still have to change into my suit." Cas says, walking over to the small closest and pulling out a black suit and blue tie. Dean still has no idea what's going on, and he's lost all his appetite, so he just stands by the counter with a blank expression on his face, trying to find any excuse to get him the hell out of the hotel room.

Cas eyes Dean and picks up on his confusion, "Oh gosh, my apologies, Dean. I have to go to a meeting in about an hour. I sent your clothes down to the laundry mat on the first floor if you need to pick them up. You're welcome to stay here after I leave, if you'd like."

Dean instantly shakes his head.

_Oh, no no no no no no no. No way. _

If that wasn't another _invite, _Dean didn't know what was. He's already having a hard time controlling himself around Cas, the _last _thing he needs is another reason to stay in the room. If he doesn't get out of there soon, he knows he won't ever leave.

Cas nods and Gabriel chuckles.

"Sorry," Dean adds cautiously, "I just need to get home and call my brother. Check up on plans and stuff."

Gabe peeks at this, his eyebrows raise as he tilts his head. "Brother, huh?"

"Knock it off, Gabe." Cas butts in, his voice low and serious. Gabe makes a _tsk _sound and smirks at Dean.

Dean grins. He can pick up a hint when it's blatantly stated right in front of him. Alright, Gabriel Milton was gay, so what?

_Does that make Cas gay?_

Dean shakes his head. _Why do you care? Stop. You don't care. You don't give a shit, Dean. You don't._

The pancakes in his stomach suddenly aren't sitting so well, and Dean knows he needs to get out of that hotel room. And _fast._

"C'mon, Cassie!" Gabe pouts, watching Cas sling the tan trench coat over his arms, "I've got Baby running."

Cas huffs. "Why on earth would you have the Impala running? You're wasting gas, you idiot!"

"Hey, I thought we'd been in 'n out. I didn't expect Mr. Model Man over here, alright?" Gabe gestures to Dean and gives him a wink.

Dean blushes and laughs. "Wait, an Impala? Like-"

"A 1967 Chevy," Cas interrupts, trench coat hung over his shoulders and briefcase tightly in hand. "You a fan of classic cars?"

"Hell yes!"

"You can come see Her, she doesn't bite," Gabe smirks, opening the door and walking out into the hallway. Dean smiles and follows him almost instantly.

"I used to have a 1965 Mustang Fastback. Cherry red, ugh-She was _gorgeous._" Dean remarks as he's walking down the carpet covered floor, forgetting completely that he has no shoes on. "But my Dad sold it."

Cas pats him on the back. "I'm sorry to hear that." He says. His arm falls and it's now brushing along Dean's exposed skin, and Dean wishes that Cas had the trench coat off so he could feel Cas' arm, instead of the thick cloth.

Dean nods at him, and suddenly feels a little uncomfortable standing in the tight elevator next to Cas, where Dean's standing so close he can smell this strange mix of syrup and cologne lingering off him. It's weird, but Dean kinda _likes it._

Being with Cas was all kinda weird, but Dean _likes it. _

The elevator shakes a little and the light flickers, causing all three men to jolt and shake, but it still keeps moving down to the lobby.

"Shit, thought it was gonna break down for a second." Dean scoffs, and Gabe starts laughing.

Gabe leans in from behind Dean. "It'd get cold in here, we'd all have to huddle to keep warm. I've heard it's warmer if you take your clothes off-"

Cas whacks him in the stomach and gives him a solid bitch-face before he turns to Dean. "Please excuse my brother, he hasn't really moved on past his _horny teenage boy _stage."

Gabe laughs at them when the elevator doors open. "And I never really will Cassie."

Cas rolls his eyes as he walks out the door, a gust of wind blowing behind him that leaves a smack of syrup and cologne on Dean's face. Gabe pushes past him, running out the door and into the warm California weather and into the parking lot.

Dean lays his eyes on the car. "Holy. Fucking. _Shit._"

She was sleek black, shiny and in perfect mint condition with a shimmering silver bumper. Dean walks around the side, running his fingers over the humming top and onto the curve of her side, peering into the silky white leather seats. She was the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen, and it was almost surprising because Dean could've sworn he was almost a little _into _the car itself.

"She's a beaut, isn't she?" Gabe asks, patting the hood.

Dean nods. "She's stunning."

"Maybe you can take 'er for a ride one of these days. I don't mind."

"Of course you don't mind, Gabe," Cas scoffs as he trudges into the passengers seat, "You only take the car out for business trips and long rides. You never use 'er otherwise."

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate a _babe _when I see one!"

Dean smiles. A _babe _was right. This damn car was almost as gorgeous as Castiel's eyes. _Almost, _but not quite there yet.

Gabe pats him on the shoulder. "Alright Dean-o, we gotta hit the road. I hope I see you soon, and if I do, mind bringing that brother of yours?" He smirks, brushing past Dean and sliding into the front seat.

Dean leans down. "He's getting married, dude. I would but-"

"I like a good challenge." Gabe laughs, giving Dean a once over before turning to Castiel. "Cassie likes a challenge too, don't 'cha, bro?"

Castiel blushes, _massively, _before he whacks Gabe in the stomach again. "We're late, dumbass!"

"Catch ya later, Dean!" Gabe shouts, the engine humming loudly as he drives away. Dean see's Cas waving to him through the window, and he waves back with a big, wide grin on his face.

Cas likes challenges.

And Dean was one _hell _of a challenge.

* * *

><p><em>"Are the hotel rooms nice?"<em>

"Yeah, they're not bad. There's a great view of the beach from my window."

_"Oh that sounds beautiful."_

"Yeah, I guess so."

_"So, you said the wedding was postponed 'til when?"_

"Wednesday."

_"That's crazy, Dean. Just ridiculous!"_

"Lisa, I know. Trust me, I know. But Sam has offered to pay for the extra days."

_"And what about Ben?"_

"What _about_ him?"

_"He's your responsibility, Dean."_

"Don't start this with me again. He's not mine to begin with-"

_"He's yours now!"_

"Lisa, I'm not doing this right now, okay? I've had a long day, I'm tired, and I want to relax. Can we just not fight? For once?"

_"Fine. You're right. It's late over here, and I should be getting to bed. Goodnight, Dean. I'll talk to you later."_

"Okay. Night."

Dean hangs up, sits on the bed and sighs. Conversations like that don't phase him, because that's what a normal conversation is between them. Dean turns on the T.V. and even laughs a little, because Lisa was even being slightly nicer to him. He's used to it by now; the constant bickering like an old married couple and the occasional sleeping-on-the-couch nights.

It even took a few days to convince Lisa to stay home for the wedding and take care of Ben, even when he didn't need any _being taken care of. _Thanks to Ben's lame excuses, Lisa caved in and stayed home and let Dean go to the wedding by himself. Sam and Ruby were perfectly okay with that, considering they both hate Lisa down to her very core; which is surprising because Lisa being a she-devil was one thing that Ruby and Dean can agree on. _  
><em>

Dean lays back on the bed, his back propped up on a few pillows. He rubs his bare stomach when it begins to growl, and he realizes the only thing he's eaten all day is the little chunk of strawberry pancakes that Cas made him, but that was over 6 hours ago, and now it's 5 o'clock in the afternoon and his stomach is practically screaming at him to get some food. He doesn't want to eat alone, and he starts wondering if it would be okay to ask Cas to dinner...

"No," Dean sighs, pulling himself up to his feet. "Nah, that's weird...is it weird? It's just two friends getting a burger or something, that's not classified as weird, right? No, no, definitely not."

Dean throws a red and brown plaid shirt over his gray t-shirt and starts to shimmy a pair of ratty jeans on. He has the jeans halfway up his legs when he stops. "Wait, why are you talking to yourself?" He whispers, his eyebrows creasing.

A warm feeling spreads across his stomach again, and he recognizes it as the feeling he gets when he's around _Cas. _Castiel is making him do all sorts of weird things that his body doesn't recognize, and he has no idea to react to it other than to deny himself of his feelings.

And his feelings, just keep getting _stronger _and _stronger. __  
><em>

He's not denying them anymore, because now he's damn well positive that he _is _attracted to Castiel, and he's damn well positive that he's never experienced _this _level of attraction to anyone else.

With that, Dean's now decided to go next door and ask Castiel Milton to dinner.

_Just as friends...nothing more...don't get your hopes up..._

Dean huffs and makes his way to the door and grabs the doorknob before he pauses again. "Cologne." He says flatly before he runs over to his suitcase and rips the clothes apart for the little bottle in his bag, "Yeah, nothing wrong with smelling good, right? No, I just don't want to smell bad. Yeah, that's it. I just don't want to smell bad."

He grins when he finds what he's looking for, and then sprays a _little _more than a decent amount on himself, rubbing the incense in on his neck. Dean sighs satisfyingly, and then makes his way to the door again. His hands grips the knob, but he stops, _again._

"Hair." He groans, skipping to the bathroom and checking his hair in the mirror. He decides it's not up to it's full potential, so he grabs the hair gel and squirts a _little _more than a decent amount on his hand before he runs it through his hair, making sure the front strands stick up in a way that he knows will usually make the girls fall head over heels, and he wonders if it'll have the same affect on guys.

He grimaces at the bruises and cuts still around him, and he prays and prays that Castiel won't mind.

"Will this even work on him? Does he even pay attention to my hair?"

Dean shakes his head. He knows he's getting too invested in this, and now he's feeling like a teenage girl getting ready for her first date. Once he's satisfied with his hair, he talks himself into licking up a little bit of toothpaste, just because, why not?

He finally enables himself to walk through the door and out into the hall, and now he's standing outside Cas' room like a weird stalker. His hearts pounding against his ribs, and he hopes he put on enough cologne because he can feel himself already begin to sweat.

_Alright, Winchester. Just. Do. It. What's the worst he can say?_

Dean swallows. _No. He can say **no.**_

And he doesn't even realize it, but his hand pounds on the door, hesitant and quick. And now he waits.

Ten seconds goes by, and his hearts still pounding, but he's still breathing.

Twenty seconds, and now it's getting harder to breathe and the air becomes a lot thicker than Dean can remember.

Thirty seconds, and now Dean's positive he's sweat all of the cologne off of his body.

And now he's lost count of how long its been, or how long he's stopped breathing, or how long he has left in his life because he's sure it's about to end at any moment now.

"No, he's just still at work, right?" Dean shakes his head and begins walking down the hall. "Yeah, yeah he's the CEO of a company, of course he's still working." He whispers. Dean wipes his palms on his shirt, because they're gross and sweaty and practically _shaking._

He steps into the elevator, and the music is annoyingly loud and obnoxious, but it somewhat soothes him a little. The ride is slow, and the music is crackling and cutting off vigorously. And then the elevator shakes, just like before when he was with Gabe and Castiel. The music cuts off, and Dean finishes the ride with complete discomfort. The doors hesitate to creak open, and when they finally do, whatever breath is left in Dean's lungs, is now _gone. _

"Dean! Unexpected surprise!"

Dean's jaw gapes open. He _did not _see this one coming. "Cas, wow, uh-hey."

Cas smiles brightly at him, and Dean notices that the bags under his eyes have sunken deeper into his skin. Dean can tell Cas is tired and exhausted, but he's happy to see that Castiel can smile through it, unlike him.

"Headed somewhere?" Cas asks as he steps into the elevator with his briefcase.

_Shit._

Dean parts his mouth, but he can't come up with an answer fast enough, and he blurts out the first thing on his mind, which substantially, was an _awful _idea on Dean's part.

"You wanna go grab something to eat?" Dean shouts, and then bites the inside of his cheek after.

_Shit shit shit!_

Cas laughs and stares at him for a few seconds. "I'd like that. Would you mind if I went to bring my bag upstairs first?"

Dean raises his eyebrows. _He said yes, holy shit, he said yes! _Dean thinks, and his smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. "Yeah sure, f'course."

Cas smiles and Dean steps back into the elevator. It's silent on the way up and a little awkward, but Dean's a little glad because it gives him time to cool down. The elevator's still a little shaky and the doors resist to open again, but they do eventually and Cas runs out.

"I'll be back in a few moments, I promise!" Cas yells to him as he's running down the hall, his trench coat flapping behind him.

Dean stands outside the elevator doors, as he watches Castiel fumble with his hotel key and smile at him before he steps inside. Dean laughs at him, and then smiles when Cas is inside.

He likes Castiel.

And that's a problem.

A few minutes later, Cas comes out, and Dean's jaw _drops._

Castiel Milton does not look like the same guy Dean just saw five minutes ago. The Castiel Milton that Dean saw before had his hair slicked back and combed neatly, his eyes tired and wasted with the creases in his eyes, his tie slightly askew against his black suit, and his long raggedy trench coat that dangled too far down his hands.

Now, Castiel Milton has his hair mussed in all different directions, a grey hoodie on that was a little too big for him with a Kansas Jayhawks logo on the front, and old, patchy worn out jeans. And his eyes, his eyes were sparkling more than Dean had ever seen him, the circles around his eyes seemed to disappear. Castiel Milton, looked down-right _hot._

"Sorry," He says when he comes towards Dean, "I hope you don't mind I dressed down."

Dean shakes his head. "Oh, no, not at all. It looks really uh-nice. Well I mean, the clothes-their, uh-their fine, I didn't mean-" Dean cuts himself off.

_Smooth like butter, Winchester. _

Castiel laughs at him as he passes by, leaving a whiff of cologne against his nose. "It's alright, Dean. I knew what you meant."

Dean nods and bites his tongue. No, Cas didn't know what Dean meant. Not at _all._

They step into the elevator, and Cas takes a deep breath. "So where we going? Any ideas?"

Dean scoffs. He had _no idea _where to go, mainly because he had no idea where _Cas _would want to go. Dean's fine with a nice, big bacon cheeseburger and a plate of fries but Cas comes across as a guy who likes expensive meals, and Dean _cannot _afford that right now.

Dean sighs. "Well, uh-um, I don't know, uh-maybe-"

Cas butts in. "I could just go for a burger or something. To be honest, fancy restaurants are overrated."

Dean feels his heart skip a beat. If he wasn't sure of his feelings towards Castiel before, he is now, because that just got him a solid level up. Dean smirks, adverting his eyes to the sparkling ones of Cas. "Sounds good to me."

The elevator doors close, and they begin to move down slowly. The music crackles again, until it completely shuts off.

"Damn," Cas says with a giggle, "Such a nice hotel, you'd think the elevators would be-"

There's a _very loud bang, _like something had just snapped, and the elevator completely _stops. _The lights go off, and now the elevator is faintly lit, but Dean can see still Castiel well enough to see that he's _panicking. _

Dean looks around the elevator, and there's a small red blinking light on the third floor button. "What the-?"

"It appears we've stopped." Cas groans deeply.

Dean lets out a heavy breath. "How'd you figure out that one, Sherlock?" He laughs.

Cas rolls his eyes. "Just stating the obvious," He mutters, stepping in front of Dean to examine the button panel. He runs his fingers over the buttons until he finds one with a little phone on it. "I think this is it." He says dryly before he presses the button. There's a long pause, and then theres static coming from over their heads. Cas presses the button again and the static stops. "Well, shit."

Dean runs his fingers through his hair. _This _was the last outcome he expected from this, but somehow, in the grand scheme of things, he was kind've _okay _with it. "At least we can catch up," Dean laughs. He bends over and sits down on the cold floor of the elevator against the wall and watches as the confusion on Castiel's face grows.

"What're you doing?" Cas asks as he looks down at him with his brows furrowed.

Dean shrugs. "Who knows how long we'll be in here? Why stand when you can sit."

Castiel shakes his head and laughs. "C'mon, there's bound to be an alarm going off or something, I mean, they can't just _not_ realize this?"

Cas was freaking out, and Dean could understand that, but he knew eventually that someone would notice the elevator was broken. "They will notice, Cas. In the mean time, why don't you just pop a squat with me, huh?"

Cas glares at him with a smirk. "Do you have a phone? Or something?"

Dean swallows. He _does _have his phone. It's in his back pocket.

_Don't you dare take that phone out, Winchester. _

Dean tilts his head. _This _is his chance to get closer to Castiel, and alright yeah, he _was_ going to lie to him, but they would only be there for a little while, so, why the hell not?

"No, left it in the hotel room."

Cas huffs. "Fuck!" He grunts, and then plops down on the ground on the other side of Dean, making the elevator shake.

"What?" Dean laughs, "Don't wanna be stuck in an elevator with a guy like me?"

Cas folds his legs together and looks up at him, cocking his head. "A guy like you? What do you mean?"

_A guy like me._

Dean clashes his teeth together. A guy like _him. _And now he's reminded of what he had said to Castiel the day before, and how he'd pushed him and yelled at him for absolutely no reason at all but to just blame someone other than himself. Dean parts his mouth, but is suddenly blocked by his own breath. He wants to _apologize, _tell Cas that he's _glad _he'd met him.

"Nothing, nevermind." Dean says.

Cas grins a little. "Oh," He nods. Cas looks at him, his gaze switching from Dean's lips to his eyes. "How are you feeling? Better than this morning, I assume?"

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes. He'd forgotten how _ugly _he looks, and now he feels his face begin to heat up, and he knows he's turning red by the grin plastered against Castiel's face. "Better. I have a very high pain tolerance. Nothin' really hurts me too much."

"I guess I'm the opposite. One paper-cut and I'll be complaining for days." Cas laughs.

"Man," Dean says as he throws his hands up, "Paper-cuts, those fuckers."

Cas laughs, and Dean feels his heart pound when Cas' nose crinkles. Dean's staring at him, watching him laugh and giggle, and he just can't seem to look away, because he's actually _beautiful. _Cas catches him staring, and his wide smile turns into an innocent grin as his face sinks into his sweatshirt.

Dean clears his throat, embarrassed for letting himself get caught. He comes up with the first thing that runs through his mind, "So, you ever been to California before?"

Cas' head comes out of his sweatshirt. "Yes, my brother and sister and I, we'd always drive down from our house in Kansas. We'd drive miles and miles, all the way down Route 66, and we'd just have so much fun." Cas smiles. He's grinning down at the ground, as if replaying the memories in his head.

"Did you take the Impala?"

Cas breaks from the ground to lock eyes with Dean. "Of course. It's actually _my _car, but I gave it to Gabe when I moved to New York. Now he just uses it to drive across the country for business trips, instead of having to take a plane. Such a waste of a beautiful car."

Dean beams at him. He _does _like a guy with good taste. "So, you've been to all the parks and stuff right? Disneyland and Universal and whatever? Me and Sammy, we used to come all the time when I was in college. Love it there."

Cas smiles brightly but shakes his head. "No, I've never been."

Dean's jaw drops. "What? Dude, you come to Cali a lot and you've never been to Disney? You serious, man?"

Cas shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know! I've just never had the time, I guess."

Dean bites his cheek. He _knows _he shouldn't. Taking Cas to Disney would waste a hell of a lot of money that Dean could use on something more important, but he just can't resist, and it slips from his mouth before he has a chance to change his mind. "I'm taking you to Disneyland. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Cas palms his face in his hands. "Dean, no I couldn't, I have work and-"

Dean holds his hands in front of him. "Excuse me? What did I just say? I don't give a _flying fuck _about your work shit, kay? I'm taking you to goddamn Disneyland, because that's where the fucking magic happens. And I'm _not _taking no for an answer."

Cas bursts out into a laughing fit, so much he actually keels over a little against the floor, which makes Dean break into a laughing fit too, and soon the both of them are on the floor laughing hysterically for no reason at all. Dean holds his stomach, because it _hurts _from laughing too much. He stares at Cas, bundled up on the floor and holding his face, a silky pink color smeared across his cheeks. His eyes are tightly shut, and Dean doesn't even realize he's moving closer until Cas opens his eyes and sits up.

And Dean has no _fucking _idea why it comes out now, but it slips from his mouth before he's even registered the thought.

"I'm sorry for what I said to you last night, Cas. I didn't mean it at all. I was angry and I needed someone to blame and you were there, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Dean says, folding his legs together as he sits only a few feet away from Cas now. Cas looks at him, and the silky pink has now darkened into a deep red. His eyes are wide and glassy, and Dean thinks that Cas is about to cry from just the way he looks.

Cas swallows. "That's alright, D-"

"No, it's not." Dean butts in, and he moves closer to Cas, "What I said to you wasn't alright. It was awful and I'm so fucking sorry."

Cas nods and a smile grows on his face. "Dean, please, it's really okay. I'm okay. It's over, and I'm okay."

Cas is reassuring him, but Dean doesn't feel any better. Cas looks so innocent, so endearing, and his lips are only _inches _away now, and Dean doesn't realize he's moving closer until he feels hot breath on him. Cas' eyes widen, his lips are parted open and quivering. Dean feels a deep, intense _desire _shoot through his belly, and he can't seem to take his eyes off Castiel's swollen pink lips. They're just _waiting_ to be touched.

And Dean's getting closer..

And closer...

And-

**_"Hello? Is anyone in here?"_**

Dean jumps, his whole body is sent flying backwards as he stares harshly at the speaker at the top of the elevator.

"Hello?" Dean yells. His heart's still pounding so much he feels like his ribs are going to break. He's breathing heavily, his hands shaking with every movement, "Ye-yes, we're, we're in here."

_**"Oh my, we are so awfully sorry. We have people fixing the elevator's at this very moment and we will be sending people down to get you. We are so sorry for the inconvenience, and we'd like to offer you a free night at the hotel for the nuisance."  
><strong>_

"Uh-thanks." Dean mutters slowly.

He was _about to kiss him._

Dean's mind spins, and he doesn't know whether he had a momentary doubt, or whether he'd actually _wanted _to kiss Castiel. He's come to terms with his attraction towards him, but this, _this _was a whole other step. _This _was cheating, cheating on Lisa, but somehow, _he still wants to do it._

"It's late, Dean. Maybe we should just go back up to our rooms."

Dean looks up, and Cas gapes away. He tilts his head, wishing that Cas would reunite his eyes with his own and save him the constant worry. "But it's not that late-"

"I'm tired." Cas cuts in, and he tangles his hands together and folds them in his lap.

Dean fucked up, and he knew it to. It was all disguised irony, and now he knows that Castiel doesn't feel the same way about Dean as Dean does for him.

And that hurts him badly.

Now it's silent in the elevator, and Dean feels his head begin to throb against his skull, and he tries to cover his face in his hands to hide his cheeks but there's this grey aura around him that won't seem to pass. He was stupid to ever think that a successful guy like Castiel Milton would ever like a guy like him, and now Dean's caught himself in a bear trap, and the only way to break free won't be easy, and most definitely wont be _painless. _

Minutes that feel like hours pass by, until there's a small knock on the elevator door, followed by a strong voice.

"Hello?"

Dean's shoots his head up. "Yeah, we're in here."

There's a pause, and then a large bang, and soon the elevator doors fly open, a pair of firefighters standing before them. Somehow the fresh air isn't welcoming to Dean, and he feels like he's choking on sentimental regret.

The firefighter puts down the crow bar and reaches a hand out to Dean to help him up. "Are you two alright?" He says.

Dean nods, and then he turns to Cas and reaches his hand out, but all Cas does is ignore it and push himself up.

"We're fine." Castiel exclaims as he pushes past the firefighters and Dean, before he turns the corner and disappears into the hallway. Dean watches him leave, eying the back of his messy head, wishing he could just run his fingers through it and hold Cas close to him.

But no, he's fucked that up too, and now Dean's positive he knows the true feeling of heartbreak.


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright, Dean. What is it? C'mon, tell me. Is it the bar fight?"

"No."

Dean's eyes remain locked on the uneaten burger in front of him. He has no idea how long he's been off in his own little world, and he also can't seem to remember how long he's been at the diner, or even when he left the hotel. He just seemed to _show up._

He's already had to lie to his brother and tell him that he had gone to the bar to meet up with an old friend and had just _accidentally_ had one too many drinks.

Dean's finding himself falling into space a lot now, since what happened with Cas, and he doesn't choose to, his eyes just kinda get..._lost. _There's this feeling in the pit of his stomach that wont seem to go away, and now he's debating whether to just move in with his brother for the rest of the week, or ask to transfer hotel rooms.

_No, Dean. You're not a pussy. You're not. _

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes finally decide to move, and now they're locked hard and solid on his brother's hazel, glassy one's. Sam's not an idiot, and Dean knows that, so he figures he might as well just _tell him. _

Dean hitches his breath.

_But what if he doesn't accept me? _

Since Dean's come to terms with himself, he can fully conclude that he's _bi-curious. _Or at least, he _thinks_ he is. He can accept that, but the question is, can Sam? Even just the thought of losing his brother is painful, and Dean doesn't know what he'd do if Sam _left _him, all because he liked a _guy. _

Sam huffs and puts his fork down. "Are you gonna say something, or just stare at me?"

_Just do it, Dean. Do it._

"Sam I'm bisexual."

The words come out of his mouth so fast, Dean himself can hardly understand it. He stops breathing, his eyes going wide. He can feel the muscles in his stomach freeze, and for the moment, he's _petrified._

_Oh shit, what have I done. _

He's surely fucked everything up even _more _now, if it was even remotely possible. He's lost his brothers ring, he's lost Cas, and now, he's most definitely lost Sam. It's hard to look at his brother, but Dean manages to take a quick glance at his face, and the expression on it is unreadable. Dean looks back at his burger, and starts to debate whether he should get up and just make a run for it or not.

He hears Sam laugh.

_Shit._

"Am I supposed to surprised?"

The feeling that hits Dean stomach is one that he's sure he's never felt before, because that was most definitely _not _the answer he was expecting.

"Huh?" Dean asks, his eyes now unable to look _away _from his brother's face.

Sam smirks and shakes his head, his dimples burying deep into the sides of his face. "Dean, c'mon-"

"What?!" Dean spits. _Surprised? Was he supposed to be **surprised**? _ "What the fuck do you mean _'am I supposed to be surprised?_'" Dean grumps, and Sam just continues to laugh, causing Dean to continue to furrow his brow even more, because he has no idea what the _hell _is going on. "I'm sorry, am I missing something here?"

Sam runs his fingers through his hair and scratches the back of his head. "I know, Dean. I mean, seriously, dude?"

"You know what?"

"That you're, gay-well I mean, _bisexual__._" Sam says, his eyes rolling.

Dean sucks in his cheeks. He can't tell whether he's mad at Sam, or completely dumbstruck. "Okay, please explain to me how you got the memo I was bi before I did?"

"Oh god," Sam exclaims, and his head rolls back, sending his long hair whipping to the sides. Dean's brother just looks so..._composed, _and Dean hasn't the slightest clue why. Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly and his smile is so wide it's even a little creepy. "C'mon, remember? Chuck Shirley?"

_Shit._

Oh, Chuck Shirley. How could Dean forget?

Two years ago was a long time, but Dean can remember it like it was just yesterday.

Dean had gone to a book signing to meet the infamous Chuck Shirley, writer of one of his favorite book series. Dean had practically _squealed _the first time he'd laid his eyes on him; his light brown scruff, those pale blue eyes and firm shoulders that Dean just couldn't keep his eyes away from. Chuck hadn't acknowledged him in the slightest when he'd signed the book, but Sam had made it a goal of his to remind Dean _constantly _about how flustered he'd gotten around the guy, but Dean ignored it and said that it was just "_him being a fan". _

Dean denied any feelings or attraction towards the guy, but now that Dean _knows _he's bisexual, he knows for a fact that he'd _definitely _fuck the shit out of Chuck Shirley if he had the chance.

"And do I even have to mention Dr. Sexy?"

Dean slaps his hand on the diner table, making the plates and glasses shake. "You leave Dr. Sexy out of this," Dean says, holding a sturdy, pointed finger in front of Sam's face.

Sam makes a _tsk _noise and shakes his head.

"It's a guilty pleasure!" Dean shouts, and Sam laughs even more.

Leave it to Sam to know for a fact that Dean liked guys before Dean even knew it himself.

Sam's laughing dims down, and his eyes land softly on Dean's. "Dean, I don't care. Straight, gay, bisexual, I don't care. You're my brother and I love you."

Dean rolls his eyes at his sly brother, but he can't help feeling completely _relieved. _It was Sam, for Christ sake, and now that Dean knows Sam's okay with it, he can't help but laugh at himself for his strain in hesitance. Coming out to his brother had gone way easier than Dean expected, but there's still one more thing Dean has to fess up to.

And if coming out wasn't the hard part, _this_ part definitely was.

"His name is Castiel." Dean says quickly, his lips rolling into a thin line.

Sam tilts his head, one eyebrow raising up farther than the other. "Huh?"

"Castiel. His name is Castiel Milton." Dean repeats. His lips have no filter whatsoever, and words just seem to be spilling out of his mouth on their own, crawling their way up his throat and scratching at his lips until they're set free.

Sam looks around the diner, his lips bowing into a disoriented demeanor. His lips part and his tongue licks across his bottom lip, and Dean can almost see the smoke coming out of his ears from thinking too hard. A few moments pass, and Sam's head jolts to Dean, his eyebrows raised and his jaw dropped.

Sam gasps. "You like someone!"

Dean claps and throws his hands up. "Bingo, yahtzee, score one for Sam Winchester."

Sam laughs loudly, enough for some people in neighboring tables to shoot them a glance. Dean blushes, but Sam continues to laugh. "Oh my god, Deanie-weenie's got a little crushie-wushie?" Sam pouts his lips, mimicking the voice of a five year old boy, and _god, _if Dean wasn't in a public place he sure would've made Sam regret that one. _  
><em>

"Dude!" Dean smacks his brothers arm, and Sam finally dims down, letting out a big, long, high pitched sigh.

"So tell me," Sam smiles, his face red and flustered from his laughing fit, "How'd you meet this rare creature?"

_Rare creature._

Dean nods, because Castiel Milton was sure one _hell _of a rare creature. Dean grabs a handful of fries from his plate and shoves it in his mouth, "Dude cut me off at security. Sat next to him on the plane, then he ended up setting up camp in the hotel room next to mine. Went from there, I guess." Dean says with a mouthful of fries, and Sam's expression goes from giggly and lively to down-right _serious. _

"What do you mean _"It went from there"_?"

Sam has his eyebrows raised, and Dean gets that he's under the impression that him and Cas have _done stuff. _

_Oh jesus, I wish..._

"No, nothing like that." Dean remarks, and Sam shrugs his shoulders down, a disappointed look waving over his face, "I just-I don't know-I-I-tried to make a move and it didn't work out so well."

"Could just be shy."

Dean shakes his head. "Or, he could just be straight." Dean says, and he doesn't feel upset until he hears his own words, his appetite completely disintegrating like before, and now he wants nothing more than to just go home and sleep. Or, _attempt _to sleep.

Sam swallows and bites the inside of his cheek. "And, Lisa?" Sam asks, and Dean slowly rolls his eyes up to meet his brothers gaze, a strong harshness evading his eyes. "I mean, you know, um, I'd be totally cool if you cheat on Lisa. Damn witch, fucking-"

"Sam." Dean says sternly, his voice low and deep. His brother rolls his eyes and scoffs. It surprises Dean that every time Lisa comes up, Sam manages to just flat out _bitch _about the girl, and Dean knows why, but putting salt into an open wound hurts more and more each time.

Sam lets out a breath and purses his lips, giving Dean a once over before he smiles and leans in. "Fuck him." He whispers, his eyes squinting as he nods his head.

Dean smiles, because the thing is, _he would._

"He wouldn't."

Sam leans back and grabs his utensil again, stuffing a forkful of salad into his mouth. "Hey, you never know, man." He says with his mouthful, and Dean shakes his head. Sam leans in again and swallows, "Do you think you'd be top or bottom? I feel like you'd totally be the bottom."

Dean swats his brothers arm, "Dude!" He shouts at him.

_Bottom... _Dean thinks, his stomach turning at the thought, _there'd be a fucking **dick **in me..._

The thoughts have never even once crossed Dean's mind, and now that it has, it scares the living _shit _out of him. He doesn't know what it is, but just the thought of some guy having their junk thrusted balls deep in Dean's ass doesn't seem to great. _But, _having _his _junk balls deep in _Cas' _ass seems like a pretty awesome thought. It's weird, thinking about a guy like this, but for some reason Dean just can't seem to think of anything else. It's all Cas.

Cas.

Cas.

_Cas._

Just the thought of what his lips would taste like, the feeling of thin stubble against his tongue, his smell, his touch, _his taste. _Everything from hair pulling, to ass smacking, to lip biting; Dean's imagined it all, and now he's finding himself _addicted _to the feeling Cas gives him, and he just fucking _wants it. _He wants to hear the noises, the sounds he'd make Cas elict, he wants to lick every inch of his body, he wants to _mark his territory. _

Dean shakes his head and has to stop himself from letting his imagination go to far, because he can already feel his pants tightening a little. He looks up, and Sam's staring at him, his eyes squinted and beady.

"What?" Dean asks, his eyes trailing around the diner.

Sam _tsks _again. "Man, you gotta stop spacing out, dude."

"How long this time?"

Sam stands up from the booth. "Solid ten minutes." He says, flicking his head to the door before he's making his leave.

Dean bites his lip until he tastes blood.

It just keeps getting _worse _and _worse._

* * *

><p>It's a loud ringing that breaks him from another one of his <em>space-out sessions, <em>and by the time Dean clicks back to Earth, the hotel is in view, and Sam is pulling up his brand new silver Cadillac in front of the hotel lobby doors.

And oh joy, Todd is already staring at Dean through the window and smiling.

Dean sits in the car and the engines hums as Sam puts it in park, pulling out his ringing phone and turning it off before he shifts to Dean with his firm and broad shoulders. "What? Too scared to walk up to your room now?" He huffs, and Dean glares at him and snarls. "C'mon Dean. You guys are adults, not sixteen year old teenagers in high school, okay?"

Dean swallows. He's acting like a _teenager. _A damn, fucking, awkward as shit and naive _teenager. _And for some reason, he just can't _help it. _The way Cas is making him feel; making his heart beat so fast he thinks he might go into cardiac arrest, or the way he just feels so _hot _around him, like the room had just spontaneously increased in temperature by ten degrees. And he just can't _help it._

And now comes the question Dean's been dreading and trying to avoid thinking about.

"What do I do if he doesn't want to talk to me? Doesn't want to be friends?"

Sam hitches a laugh. "All you want is a friendship, Dean?"

"Well, I'm not even sure we _are _friends, dude." Dean says, sucking in a breath of air. He feels a headache coming on, "Or at least, not anymore."

_Not anymore._

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose.

_Not any-fucking-more. Why? Oh, that's right, YOU screwed up, Winchester! You fucking idiot!_

Sam puts puts his big gigantor hand on Dean's shoulder and Dean flings it off. The last thing Dean needs right now is sympathy from others. He doesn't know why he hates it, he just does. He _wants _a drink, but considering how _beautifully _that went last time, he decides not to. He works out a solid plan: go back to the hotel room and binge on the _Star Trek _marathon that's happening tonight, order some room service, and maybe even jerk off to some busty asian beauties. _  
><em>

Dean nods, unbuckling his seatbelt.

_Sounds like a pretty solid plan to me. _

Dean opens the door, "See ya, Sammy." He breathes, and slams the door once he's out. He hears Sam mumble something, but frankly Dean doesn't really give a flying fuck and he figures he'll just text him later.

He struts to the door, reminding himself over and over again about his _plan._

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

__Star Trek. Food. Porn.__

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

He strides to the door, and he see's Todd and flashes him a wide smile. "Hiya, Todd!"

Todd grins, and his mustache twitches. "Evening, Sir!" He yells proudly, and Dean laughs because he's probably the only guy apart from those fancy-ass jerks who don't even give Todd a second glance.

_Start Trek. Food. Porn._

Next comes Tessa, her lips curling and puffing when her eyes look up and see Dean eagerly and hastily making his way toward the courtyard.

"Hiya, Tessa!" He yells, and Tessa's eyebrows practically shoot off her head.

She puffs her chest, showing off what she's got, even though she doesn't have that much. "Good evening, Dean!" She smiles, "I take it you're in a good mood tonight!"

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

"Sure am, Tess." Dean winks, and Tessa blushes, her eyes falling down as she bites her lip. Dean scoffs.

_It's just too easy sometimes. _He thinks, and he's smiling when the doors slide open to the courtyard, the palm trees just hiding the vibrant orange sunset, and he can hear the splashes of kids playing in the pool, and he can smell the fresh ocean air.

_Star Trek. Food. Porn._

He's still grinning when he reaches the building across the courtyard, and walks down the long hallway until he see's the _elevator._

Dean shakes his head, his lips pouting out. "Nope. Doesn't bother me. I don't care. And you know what? I don't care that I don't care." He says to himself, taking a deep breath before he presses the button, and the doors open without hesitation this time, taking him right up to the fourth floor without any problems whatsoever.

The doors open, and he takes a step, then stops.

It's like there's this invisible barrier, and his eyes just slowly trail over to the floor...to the spot where Cas was sitting in his grey hoodie, all warm and snug with his old ratted jeans and hair so messy it could've been defined as _total _sex-hair.

Dean shuts his eyes with a heavy breath and forces himself out of the elevator. He starts his way down the hall, "Star Trek. Food. Porn." He reminds himself, whisperin under his breath as his feet struggle to carry him to the room. "Star Trek. Food. Porn. Star Trek. Food-"

_Oh fucking shit._

"Dean-o!"

"Gabe," Dean says slowly, his head whipping around to make sure Cas was nowhere in sight, and thank _God _he wasn't, "What are you, uh, doin' here, man?"

Gabe shrugs, and Dean can't help but laugh at how the guy just reminds him of a little troll. "Eh, you know, visiting the bro. Work stuff, maybe a little orgy here and there, same ol', same ol'."

_Wait, is he serious?_

Cas having an orgy was _quite _the image. And Dean grimaces, because there was no way he could tell if this guy was serious or not. "Wait-"

Gabe hits his shoulder, "Chillax, bro. I'm fucking with you." Gabe laughs, and Dean sighs in relief.

_No, I'm not jealous. I'm not. Star Trek, and uh-uh-what else was it? Wait no maybe it was-_

"You should go in and talk to him."

Dean's eyes widen. "Oh, uh-I-I don't know if that's such a good-" Dean chokes on his own breath, because _Gabe's already knocking on Cas' door. _His hand shoots up to grab Gabe's arm, "Wait, no, Gabe!"

And then Gabe _yells. _"Cassie! Open up! Male strippers are here!"

_Run._

There's about a billion things that are screaming at his head right now, and the loudest one of them all is telling him to _run_. To just book it down the hall and get the hell away from there, and still, for some reason, he _won't move. _His feet remain stuck to the carpet, watching, waiting for that door to open.

And it does.

"Gabe I-" Cas eyes Dean, and smiles. "Oh hello, Dean."

_Hello, Dean?_

Dean gives him a once over, soaking in Cas' appearance like he was the Sun. "Hey, Cas." He says soothly, and his eyes fall to Cas' black v-neck that hugs him in all the right places, outlining the strains of his biceps and chest, and the grey sweatpants that are a little too big for him, which Dean recognize as the ones Cas had on the morning he woke up in his room.

Cas' looks..._fine. _Totally, completely, fine. As if nothing happened at all. Dean wonders if maybe Cas just has the outstanding ability to keep his cool on the outside when he's screaming on the inside, because Dean sure as hell knows he's showing on the outside. He doesn't know how long he's been standing there, and Dean's just unable to look away from Cas. His eyes; those _damn _eyes that just keep making Dean want him more.

Gabe pushes Dean forward a little. "Well, I'm leaving. Have fun you two!" He says, and then he's gone, faint giggling trailing behind him as he body bounces away.

"How are you, Dean?"

Castiel's voice is booming with resonant, and all Dean can think about is the noises Cas would make if he were to pound him, just fuck the _shit _out of the dude, the noises he would make when he came...

Dean swallows. "Uh, fine. Um, yourself?"

Cas nods, "I'm great. Just about to go binge on the Star Trek marathon tonight."

"Huh," Dean laughs, tilting his head, "Me too!"

_Dude likes Star Trek, fucking awesome._

Cas' eyes widen, and Dean notices a small pink color rise in his cheeks. Cas run's his hand through his hair and scratches the back of his head, his finger's messing up his dark hair just enough to entice. "Care to join me? I was thinking of ordering Chinese, if you're hungry."

Dean thinks his hearts beating so fast it might break through his ribs. His lips part into a warm smile, "Starving." Dean says, and then he's following Cas into his hotel room again. And the dude wasn't kidding, Cas already has Star Trek playing on the T.V., and there's a menu pamphlet open on the coffee table in front of the couch for the Chinese place.

"Order anything you'd like," Cas says, plopping down on the sofa in front of the giant flat screen T.V.

Dean shakes his head, "I'll pay for it Cas, it's really no big deal-"

"No please, I insist." Cas says with a smile, "Gabe left his wallet here."

Dean breaks into a laugh, his eyes shutting tightly, 'Well in that case, let's get one of everything!"

Cas giggles, and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket before he dials the number. "So, one of everything?"

Dean laughs, "No, Cas. Just Lo Mein for me, thanks." He giggles, and Cas shrugs.

He starts ordering, and Dean plops down on the couch next to him, listening to the deep tone of Castiel's voice, watching his lips move softly, his tongue swiping out occasionally to brush the bottom of his lip, watching them curl and curve against his skin. Dean wanted them. He wanted them _bad. _It's like Lisa was only a memory in the past, and she meant _nothing _to him anymore, and he just wanted something new, exciting, _different. _But he_ couldn't. _

Cas hung up, "They said about thirty minutes. That okay?" He says, bringing his legs up and crossing them on the black leather couch.

Dean smiles. "Sounds good."

It was the longest thirty minutes of Dean's life. Cas was quiet, but when he did talk, he was funny, and made Dean smile almost every time. There were instances that Dean would just stare at him and he wouldn't even realize it until Cas stared back, holding his gaze before his eyes gaped away, and Dean was left with nothing but a red face and a beating heart.

Dean wanted and needed Castiel so bad it _hurt, _but he _couldn't. _The only barrier, the only line keeping Dean from straight out grabbing Castiel's face and kissing him hard was fucking _Lisa. _

There had been moments when Dean had almost forgotten his loyalty to her; like when Cas would shift in the couch and his knee would brush Dean's, or he would scratch and rub his neck and skin, or when he would laugh and he'd bite down on his tongue. Dean had to cross his legs so Cas wouldn't notice a possible growing bulge in his pants.

When the food finally arrived, they pretty much ate in silence, with the occasional television comment or complaint. Sometimes Cas would get _way _too much into the show, and start yelling things at the T.V., which almost made Dean choke on his Lo Mein every single time.

"What the fuck! Dammit, Picard! Why would you let those fuckers capture you? And you, Crusher! The hell were you thinkin', man?" Cas yells, throwing his hands up and waving them around. He huffs and gets up, taking Dean's plate and his own and clearing the area for them before he plops back down on the sofa again, and now he's even _closer _to Dean then he was before, and Dean can smell the cologne radiating off his skin.

Cas leans his head back against the couch and sighs. "This is aggravating. I'm not sure why I keep watching the show, it just upsets me every time I watch it." Cas laughs, grabbing the remote from the table. "Scary movie?"

Dean laughs and runs his fingers through his hair. "Okay, you choose."

Cas flips through the movie selection for a while, and finally decides on _The Conjuring_, which has Cas jumping in his seat not more than two minutes into the movie. It doesn't scare Dean at all, but the fear of accidentally popping a boner mid-movie does.

Cas jumps again, inadvertently grabbing Dean's wrist and squeezing tightly. "I did not expect that," He says, his fingers peeling of Dean's skin slowly. It's hard to ignore the way Castiel's fingers trail across Dean's skin, and Dean's finding himself unable to stop from leaning in a little bit, and now his thigh is pressed firmly up against Cas'.

Dean can feel it growing, the tension in his stomach, and Cas grabs his shoulder this time, so hard Dean's positive it'll most certainly leave a red handprint tattooed on his skin. "Sorry!" Cas yelps, his hands sliding down Dean's arm.

Dean shakes his head. "No, Cas, it's alright. I don't mind." He grins with a smile, and Cas smiles back, wrapping his arm around Dean's and taking shelter behind it. Dean swallows, because it's hard _not _to get a hard-on right now. Cas is _almost _pressed against him, and he's gripping Dean's arm tightly against his chest.

_Do it, Dean. Pretend it's Lisa, okay? You can do this._

"Here," Dean says, his voice shaky and nervous as he unhinges his arm from Castiel's grasp, hooking it around Cas' shoulder and pulling him close and pressed tightly into Dean's side, "Better?"

_Holy fucking shit._

Cas nods slowly, and Dean feels Cas' rapid heartbeat against his side when he presses into him. "Are you sure, Dean?"

"Yeah, why not? You're terrified, Cas." Dean smiles, and Cas hides his head down against Dean shoulder in embarrassment. He fervently grabs Dean's grey t-shirt, balling it up in his fists when something pops out, and Dean doesn't mean to, he _really _doesn't mean to, but he rubs Cas' shoulder, his thumb circling shapes around the skin. And Cas is _okay _with it.

They're _cuddling._

And Cas is _o-fucking-kay _with it.

Big jump now, and Cas heads for Dean's knee this time, not squeezing hard, but just _holding_ it. Dean looks down at Cas' hair, and he can't see Cas' face, and Cas cant see Dean's face, which is probably a good thing, because one look and Dean knows he's _gone. _

And then Cas moves his hand up.

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK._

Dean swallows so hard he almost chokes on his own spit. He has a _boner. _He can see it _clearly. _There was no hiding it, it was literally there, and Dean panics, and does the only thing that he thinks is _right._

"Shit, Cas-I gotta go-" He says, and he stands up from the couch, causing Cas to keel over a little. Cas sits up, a sad and miserable look spreading across his face.

"Everything okay?" Cas asks, pausing the movie and standing to meet Dean's level.

_He's gonna see. Holy shit he's gonna see._

What Dean didn't know, is what Cas would do if he _saw. _Would he get on his knees and suck him off? Not very likely. Dean knows he'd tell him to get out, to never talk to him again and most likely end up switching hotel rooms. Cas looks confused, but Dean puts on his best smile, "I forgot I had plans with Sam like wicked early tomorrow morning! I have to get up at the crack o' dawn." He says, bolting to the door and opening it.

Cas follows him, rustling his fingers through his hair and yawning, a great big moan following.

_Fuck._

Dean hides his body behind the door, blocking his now _completely _hard cock from Castiel's view, and he's surprised Cas hasn't seen it by now. It's hard enough to poke through _jeans _for Christ sake. Cas doesn't look to phased, and he seems to believe Dean's bullshit story.

"Alright, Dean." Cas yawns again. Another moan. A bigger boner. "Goodnight, Dean. I had fun tonight." Cas smiles, and he runs a thumb across his bottom lip and then swipes his tongue against it, and now Dean's fucking _done._

"Night, Cas!" He yells, slamming the door and fumbling for the key-card in his pocket to get into his own room. He fumbles it ope, and once he's inside he slams it closed and presses his back hard against it, out of breath and chest heaving.

_Holy fucking god._

His eyes snap open, and he bites his lip, trying his hardest to avoid the fact that he _still _has a fucking boner.

"Bobby naked, think of Bobby naked," Dean whispers, and then grimaces at the thought before he starts to feel that his pants are becoming looser and looser. He sighs in relief, kicking off his shoes and stripping himself down to just his boxers before he flops down on the bed.

This was one _hell _of a night, and Dean is relieved that Cas didn't notice anything, but now Dean's more confused. He doesn't know if Cas is _straight _or not. By his reaction in the elevator, Dean could conclude the guy was 100% into tits, but _now, _after _that, _he could've sworn Cas was 100% into _dick._

Dean squeezes his pillow. He _really _likes Castiel. The feeling he gets when he's around him, was just something unexplainable, something Dean couldn't control, and it was just _growing. _He's never _ever _had feelings like this for a guy, let alone get a fucking boner around one.

Dean lets his breathing calm himself down, and he calms himself and tries to fall asleep with thoughts of Castiel. His eyes, midnight blue and glowing, like a butterflies wing, pulsing and sending waves of shocks down Dean's body the longer he stared. His lips, puffy and full, his tongue swiping out and inviting Dean in, soft pink and delicate. His _voice. _Rough and rigid, smokey and strong but gentle and fragile, almost _dangerous. _

Dean can almost hear the noises Cas would make if he could touch him, running his fingers down his neck and chest, touching every inch of his body, showing Cas just how bad he wanted him. The noises he'd make when Dean kissed him, bit his lips and neck, his stomach and thighs. Dean _could hear it._

Dean's eyes snap open.

He could really _hear it._

Dean sits up and shakes his head, his hand finding the back of his hair and scratching. He laughs to himself, because for a second there, he could have _sworn_ Cas _actually __moaned. _He could hear it clearly, like it was right next to him. Muffled, but clear.

He lays back down on his bed, reverting his thoughts back to his imagination and letting it run wild. He imagines touching him again, bending him over on his knees and kissing the nape of his neck, his shoulders and back, rubbing his cock in between Cas and watching him squirm and _moan._

He hears it again.

Muffled, but _clear._

Dean sits up a second time, throwing his feet over the side of the bed and sitting up, his ears perking, because that was _definitely _not his imagination.

He hears it again.

_Clearly _this time. His feet force him to stand, and he walks slowly over to the wall of the room, his hands pressing flat against the wall before his ear follows, holding it to the wall, and _listening. _There's a long silence, and Dean almost thinks he's going insane, and that maybe his imagination is just more wild than he thought, but then he hears a stifled whimper.

_"Dean..."_

Dean throws his body off the wall.

_HOLY SHIT._

His jaw drops, because he without a doubt, heard that. That was Castiel alright. That was Castiel, _moaning Dean's name. _Dean swallows when he feels his stomach drop, and now he's just standing in the middle of his room with his eyes wide and jaw fallen.

_"Yes, oh yes, Dean, please..."_

It was too fast to comprehend, but at the same time, Dean understood. He's jerked off before, and he knows that sometimes, _names _come out. Dean moves closer to the wall again, his hand pressing firmly up against it as he listened more.

_"Oh God, yes. Harder, please-please..."_

His body twinges, and he palms himself, because he's _hard. _Really _hard. _And he can't help it, but _this wasn't cheating. _He unbuttons his boxers and they fall to the floor at his feet, and he curls his fingers around his length. His cock is throbbing hard, and he clenches his teeth down when he moves his hand up, spreading pre-cum around the tip.

He lets out the quietest whimper, making sure that no one but _himself _can hear it. "_Cas_..." He breathes, his hand stroking back down to the base of his now fully hard cock and back up again, imagining Cas sprawled across the couch, one hand gripping the leather tightly as the other is wrapped hard and firm against his cock.

_"Yes, yes, Dean, just like that, fuck me_ _**please**,"_

Dean lets out an unexpected whimper, the heat rising in his body when he hears his voice, low and needy and _demanding. _Dean's lips tremble, and he stokes himself harder, the thought of Cas spreading his legs for him, letting Dean _control him, use him. _His fist tightened around his cock as he kept his hands moving, his jaw tightening the faster he moved up his length.

_"Fuck me, Dean, please, make me come...make me..."_

"_Cas. _Oh fuck, Cas. Gonna make you come, " Dean whispers to himself, his hand stopping the motion all together and letting his hips take over, thrusting his cock into his hand over and over, "_God_, Cas. Gonna' fuck you so hard, baby." He groans quietly, his muscles clenching around his cock, the envision of Cas on his knees, his legs spread wide in front of him and Dean's cock buried deep inside him running through his mind.

Dean bites his lip, and wonders how _Cas_ would bite his lip, if he would take it into his mouth a suck on it before opening his lips wide and pushing his tongue in, curling it and sliding their tongues against one another. Dean involuntarily moans again, louder this time, and he leans his head on the wallpaper, his breath quick and heavy against the barrier between them.

He shuts his eyes, and then its not his hand that he's thrusting into anymore, it's _Cas, _on his back with his hands gripping and grabbing at Dean's skin, yelling, screaming at him to move _harder.__  
><em>

_"Dean, yes, yes, baby, I'm coming..."_

Dean's fingers scratch at the wall like it was Cas' hair, pulling and entwining his hands in it as he fucks him. Dean can still feel his swollen tip throbbing against his hand, and his mind is telling him to go over and _show _Cas _exactly _how he'd fuck him, but he _can't_, and it's _killing him._

Dean was fucking his hand almost vigorously now, the thought of his hand being Cas' warm and tight ass almost overwhelming and overpowering. Dean moaned again, his stomach and cock straining in dire need of release, and he could feel the twinge in his core building.

"Cas, yes, oh, _Cas,_" Dean groans low and needy, his cock continuing to thrust in and out of his hand, "Oh, baby, I'm coming. _Shit, _Cas, I'm coming." Dean's pumping becomes more feverish and he feels like he needs to come more than anything in the world, and the tip of his cock was becoming more sensitive, turning a deep pink against his tan skin.

_"Dean! Oh, Dean! Yes! I'm coming!"_

"Yeah, Cas, that's right, come for me. Just like that baby, _come for me_," Dean whimpers, his voice hitching and breaking against his heaving breath, his mouth quivering and shaking when he feels his balls tighten up and his cock twitch against his hand. Dean pants heavily and his legs begin to shake, and now he's making noises out of his mouth that he didn't even know _existed. _"Yes, _Cas, _oh baby. So good, _so good, _oh god, I'm coming, _Cas_ I'm coming,"

And then he feels it, his whole body shakes as his cock is spurting out come in front of him, and he's still whispering and heaving Cas' name even after he's finished. And now it's silent, and the only noise that fills Dean's room is his own shaken breath.

_Holy shit. I just jerked off to a guy._

He stares at the wall, his eyes wide and lips parted. He has no idea how long he's standing there, but by the time he realizes what just happened, he is now is certain of two things:

1. Castiel Milton is uncontrollably, undoubtably, and wildly attracted to _him_.

2. He is: _So. Fucking. Screwed._


	5. Chapter 5

Dean wakes up the next morning to a series of knocks. His eyes burn when they open, and he lets out a loud yawn as he tumbles to the door.

He groans when he opens it, his eyes struggling to see when a gust of air blows by him as the door swings. Dean squints when he sees the short, little man stroll right by him and into his room.

Dean scoffs. "What the-?"

"Good morning, sleeping beauty."

"What do you want, Gabe?" Dean asks hoarsely, shutting the door and trotting back to the bed to sit down. Gabe leans against the wall and grins.

"How was last night?" Gabe asks as he crosses his arms over his chest. Dean bites his cheek and gives him a once over.

Dean clears his throat. "Fine?" He says with sincere attitude. Gabe's still grinning at him and Dean can feel himself growing edgy.

_Last night._

Dean swallows.

_Last fucking night._

Gabe tilts his head. "Just fine?"

Dean purses his lips and squints. It wasn't _fine. _It was _fucking amazing. _Dean hadn't even laid a hand on Castiel but he still felt as though Cas had been _right there. _Dean feels a warm feeling settle in his stomach. _Castiel was attracted to him._

"Great." Dean smiles, "It was great."

"Well I'll be damned," Gabe laughs, giving Dean a once over before he pushes slowly off the wall and sits on the bed next to Dean, "Cassie said the same thing."

Dean perks up. "You talked to Cas? What did he say?" He says quickly, and then he bites the inside of his cheek because he feels like a crazed teenager asking for _details._

Gabe pats Dean on the shoulder, "He said-"

Their heads snap towards the door when three knocks strike the wood, causing Dean's heart to flutter.

_Cas?_

Gabe's the first one up, his pudgy body bouncing to the door. He raises on his toes and peeks into the peep-hole.

"Dear _Lord,_" He shouts, his body whipping towards Dean in one quick movement as his mouth falls open, "Who the hell is _that_?!"

_Not Cas._

Dean stands, his eyebrows clenching in confusion as Gabe begins to open the door without Dean's consent. The door swings, and standing before them is-

"Sam?" Dean croaks, and he glares at Gabe and notices that his mouth has yet to close and Dean wonders if he'll start to catch flies.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam sneers, looking at Gabe from top to bottom before locking his eyes on Dean again, "Is this...Castiel?"

"Oh _hell _no!" Dean laughs, and Gabe _tsks _and rolls his eyes. Sam walks past Gabe and Gabe's eyes follow him. Dean watches his eyes fall directly to his brothers butt before Gabe purses his lips and nods.

_Oh boy. _

"Is this your brother?" Gabe smiles as he shuts the door and steps closer to Sam. Dean chuckles when he sees Sam's eyes go wide. Dean holds his hands over his stomach and attempts to resist the urge to laugh at Gabriel's attempt of flirting.

Sam steps back, "Yes. I'm Dean's brother." Sam sucks in a breath and scratches the back of his head, "Deans unavailable brother."

"Okay!" Dean shouts, his fists balling as he clears the tension his brother had just idiotically put into the room, "So, Castiel?"

"What about Castiel?" Sam butts in, the curves of his mouth curling, "Did something happen?"

_Oh God I wish._

"No," Dean says, but he's cut off by Gabe's militant laughter.

"I guarantee you the next time you'll see Dean he'll have hickies from head to toe," Gabe giggles, and Sam's hoarse laugh soon follows, "Even in places you didn't think hickies _could _go."

"Enough!" Dean yells, his cheeks being ambushed by a scarlet red, and he can feel himself already begin to sweat through his white t-shirt. He glares at his brother and notices Sam's trying to bite back laughter. "Okay, is there like some purpose that you're here?"

Sam's dimples deepen, "Yeah I was just gonna' check up on you. Seemed pretty strange after you left the other day, man."

"You came to check up on me?" Dean snarls, "Dude, no chick flick moments, okay? I'm fine."

Dean watches as his brother's smile fades. _He's _the one that should be checking up on Sam, not the other way around. And besides, he was _fine. _Or at least, _now_ he was fine. Knowing that Castiel wants him just as bad as he wants Castiel is something Dean feels like he's needed to hear his whole life.

"What was he not fine about?" Gabe asks, his body turning towards Sam.

Dean smacks himself in the head.

"Oh," Sam giggles, "He was upset because he thought his little crushie-wushie didn't like him back."

_Please just shoot me now while there's still time. _

Dean sighs annoyingly, "I was not upset, Samantha, I was merely _bothered _by it."

And that, was a pure, down-right, straight-up, _lie. _It didn't _just_ upset him, it pissed him off, made him distressed, but it most importantly made him feel _alone. _He's felt alone before, mostly all of his life, but never like this. This was a different kind of _"alone". _Being with Castiel, even if it wasn't the way Dean had _wanted _it to be, made him feel _intact. _Unbroken, undamaged, unmarked.

Castiel made him feel _perfect. _

"Yes but he _does _like you." Gabe speaks up, and Dean looks forward to see that Gabe and his brother had practically gravitated towards each other since the last time he looked towards them. "Or at least, I'm pretty sure he does."

"Pretty sure?" Dean swallows, "Pretty sure isn't sure, dude. I need _deats_."

Sam huffs, "Oh my god, you're like a girl."

"Shuddup, Samantha. Did someone forget to take their _Midol _today? Need some tampons or something?" Dean spits at him, pointing his finger up in front of him and Sam raises his hands up and laughs.

Sam crosses his arms in front of his chest and squints. "Yeah I'll just borrow them from you, considering you have a lot of those, don't you?"

Dean starts laughing a little too because he can't just _not _laugh at himself. He's never acted this way before, hell, he's never asked for "deats" before either. Sam's right, he is acting like a girl.

_Jesus fucking Christ Castiel, the things you do to me. _

"He doesn't shut his trap about you that's for sure." Gabe says, and Dean looks up again to find that Gabe's arm is now brushing his brothers. And Sam's _cool with it. _

_Gabe you sly dog._

"Dean this, Dean that, blah blah blah. I don't care. All I care about is when you guys finally fuck." Gabe sighs, and he makes an effort to step a little closer to Sam, "I wanna' know if you're a good fuck, 'cause I also wanna' _find out_ if it runs in the family."

_Oh shit._

At any point in his life, Dean has never ever wanted a camera more than he does at this very moment. Because this, oh _this, _was priceless. The look on Sam's face was something Dean has never _ever _witnessed before, on _anyone _for that matter. Sam's face was the actual color of a ripe tomato, and his eyes, _wow _his eyes, were almost as wide as Castiel's legs were in Dean's dream last night.

And the look on Gabe's was _so _much better. He was proud. And dammit, he _deserved _to be with that one.

Dean holds his stomach and tries to retain himself from bursting into hysterics, but before he can really crack, there comes another knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Sam shouts, and his legs are shaking while he carries himself to the door. Gabe glances at Dean and smiles.

Dean shoots him a finger, "Props to you on that one, dude." He laughs, and the reverts his attention to Sam at the door. His big gigantor body is in the way, but he hears Sam huff a laugh before he turns his head around.

"Well," Sam grins, his tongue swiping out to brush his bottom lip. Dean swallows because he knows _that look. _That's Sam's "_payback_" look. "Castiel _is_ even more hot than you mentioned."

_SAM YOU MOTHER FUCKER._

Sam's body moves, and Castiel steps in, a gray _AC/DC _t-shirt clinging to his chest and a pair of dark worn out jeans around his legs. Dean's breath hitches when he see's him, his hair exactly the way Dean likes it, and his eyes are even more stunning than Dean remembers.

Castiel smiles. "Hello, Dean."

Dean tries to smile back, but just ends up taking a gulp and choking on his own spit.

_Fan-fucking-tastic, Dean. _

Sam clears his throat. "Well, I-uh, need to go. I'll call you later, man." Sam grins as he begins to walk out the door, Gabe following close behind.

"Yeah, catch ya later, Dean-o!" Gabe smirks. He walks by Castiel and whispers something in his ear before he makes his leave. Castiel turns a bright red and bites his lip.

Dean feels his stomach flop, because whatever Gabe just said, was clearly about him. And now, Dean and Castiel are just swimming in a pool of sexual tension.

"Did I interrupt anything?" Castiel says, his hands rustling the back of his hair.

_His hair._

That fucking dark hair that makes Dean go insane. Dean sucks a breath in, and his whole body clenches when he remembers what happened _last night. _It was Castiel, in the flesh. It's different, looking at him now. Knowing that he too wants the same thing Dean wants, and Dean contemplates whether he should just grab Castiel's face now and just fucking _kiss him. _

_Fuck me, Dean, please, make me come...make me..._

Dean bites his lip until he tastes blood.

_No, do not start this now...don't think about it...don't think about it..._

"Dean?"

Dean's head shoots up. "Hm?"

Castiel steps forward and Dean feels like he just swallowed a hornet's nest. "You look...under the weather. Are you alright?"

Now that Castiel is closer to him and Dean can see the speckles of darker blue in the lightness of his eyes; no, he's not alright.

"I'm cool, man." Dean laughs, trying to look anywhere but at Castiel to avoid losing it.

Cas looks down and smiles, "So I have the day off today," He starts, and then he giggles, "And I wanted to hold you to your promise."

Dean tilts his head. "My promise?"

Castiel blushes and chews on his bottom lip, and Dean's gaze flickers back and forth from the pink of his lips to the blue of his eyes. Cas shrugs, "You promised you'd take me to Disneyland, and I'm holding you to it."

_Disneyland. _

Disney-fucking-land. Cas _wants _to go to Disneyland with him. A _date._

_Is it a date? Yeah, this would be considered a date right?_

Dean chuckles, "You want to-"

"I want to go on _Splash Mountain_." Cas interrupts as he nods his head, proud and confidently.

_Oh Lord Almighty._

Dean's lips spread into a gummy smile. He doesn't take Castiel for the "roller-coaster type" at all. Considering how horrified he is of scary movies, Dean can't see roller coasters being a good idea. Last night with Cas, _holy hell, _all he'd do was cling on to Dean for dear life, and Dean just can't imagine how he'd be with a 50 foot drop down a water mountain into a thorny abyss.

_Wait a second..._

Dean props his head. If Cas was clinging onto him with the scary movie, he'd most likely do it even _more _on the ride...

Dean smiles. "Alright, _Splash Mountain _it is."

* * *

><p>The end of September was the best time to go visit the park. All the leaves were beginning to change, leaving traces of red and yellow on the stems of fallen leaves. The benches are cold and wet with dew, and Dean watches as Castiel stares at a pile of brown and crusty leaves whirl around in a little tornado next to them. Cas smiles and his eyes highlight with the sun shining a wave over them.<p>

Cas bites his thumb nail and sits crossed-legged on the bench. "This map is indecipherable. What the hell is _Roger Rabbit's Cartoon Spin_? What are these things?"

Dean snatches the map from Cas and laughs, "Wow, dude, you live under a rock or something?" He says with a sigh, reverting his eyes to the map.

"I'm not very pop culture savvy, if that's what you're asking."

Dean shoves the map in his pocket, "Why don't we just walk around for a while, talk a little."

Cas beams. "I'd enjoy that," He stands, and Dean follows him shortly after as they begin to trail around the park. It's not warm, but it's not cold either, and every once in a while Cas' teeth start to clank together and he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. Dean likes it when he does it because it just gives him another reason to walk closer.

"So, Dean, tell me about yourself."

Dean turns his head to Cas and sees he's grinning at the sidewalk in front of him. "Like what?" He says with a swallow. There's _nothing _about him that Cas would be interested in knowing. He doesn't want to hear his sob story about how his life sucks or how he has a lot of "_issues_". He wants to hear what he likes, what he does for fun, what makes him happy. And it's hard to tell someone that kinda' stuff about yourself if you don't exactly _have any. _

"Anything," Cas says deeply, "Just tell me anything."

Dean shrugs and sucks in the inside of his cheek. "I don't really got much, to be honest."

"I find that seemingly difficult to believe, considering I think you happen to be a very," Cas stops himself completely, his feet halt along with the sound of his voice, and Dean hitches, his body faltering as soon as he sees Castiel stop. Cas lingers for a moment, smiling at the ground again. "Different. You really are different."

_Different? _

_Different how?_

But Dean already knew he was different. The way he grew up, the things that he'd done, what he's gone through; they were all different. They were incomparable, matchless, divergent. As far as he knew, being different was bad. And now hearing it from Cas, felt strange, as if that was the word Dean was _hoping_ to hear. But in all honesty, he didn't know what he was expecting; or really, what he _wanted _to hear. He wanted to hear something better than "_different_". He just didn't know what it was yet. All he knew now, was that he was _different, _and he didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.

It must've been a good thing. It had to be, considering Castiel's _noises _last night.

"I can take that," Dean mumbles, "For now."

Castiel blushes, but doesn't say anything. He shoves his hands in his pockets and nuzzles his neck into his jacket collar.

Dean steps on the crunchy leaves on the path. "So what about you, huh?"

Cas starts mimicking Dean, stepping on the crunchy leaves before Dean has a chance too. "What about me?"

"I don't know, just you. Like tell me something about yourself."

Castiel laughs a little but doesn't respond immediately, first drawing his attention to a group of kids climbing on the _Mickey Mouse_ statue, and then to a pigeon pecking its beak down at the concrete to gather dropped popcorn sprawled across the walkway. He parts his lips and sighs again, "I'm very hard to figure out."

Dean shakes his head and nudges Castiel on the shoulder. "Alright, we'll start simple, then. What's your favorite color?"

"Really?" Cas laughs, his tongue brushing his lips when a gust of cool air brushed them. He turns to Dean and nods, "I like orange."

Dean scoffs, "Orange? Dude, really?"

"What?" Cas chuckles sarcastically, "Is that not satisfying enough to you?"

Dean grins and shakes his head again, "Nah, just different, I guess."

Castiel stops in his tracks again. "Different is a good thing."

Dean stops and looks back, a small distance separating the two. Castiel was smiling subtly, dimples showing faintly in his prickly skin. His smile radiated across to Dean, and he smiled right back.

_Different is a good thing._

It was a weird consciousness that hit Dean's stomach, a strange tingle in his core that couldn't be acquitted with words. Castiel was _different._

Cas' eyes light up, "Hey look!" He shouts, and runs past Dean, leaving a gust of wind that knocks Dean out of another one of his "space-out sessions". His head follows Castiel, and he's in a line. "Dean! C'mon!"

_Oh boy._

Dean's been on _Splash Mountain _before. Many times with his brother, in fact. It's quite boring for him actually, considering he's more of the upside-down loop going 75 miles an hour roller coaster guy, but this would do. All things considered, it was the end of September, on a Sunday, and nobody was really there compared to the previous times Dean's gone.

The line hopped quickly, and soon enough, Dean and Castiel were sat right next to each other in the last row of the tight, compact plastic log rift. Dean's butt's soaking wet, which is more than uncomfortable given the fact he's wearing jeans. And now Castiel is pressed firmly against his side, and he can feel him _shaking._

The ride moves, and Castiel's hand grips the metal bar in front of them.

"This was an awful idea." He says, and he sucks in a breath of air big enough to pop a balloon. Dean can see Cas' whole body literally shaking, "Why didn't you talk me out of this, dammit Dean."

Dean laughs, "Hey! You said you wanted to go on it!" He laughs and pats Cas on the shoulder, "It'll be over in no time, trust me."

_Feel free to grab on to me at any time now..._

"No, no, no, oh my god no." Cas whimpers, his hands clutching the bar so tightly Dean can see the white in his knuckles. His head is buried down into his chest and he's squeezing his eyes shut so tight that Dean can see every wrinkle and crease perfectly carved on his face. He just looked so fucking _cute._

"Okay, there's a little bit of a hill here," Dean starts, and Castiel grabs Dean's knee so tightly Dean winces.

_Dude likes it rough._

Cas opens his eyes for a second but immediately shuts them after, "NO, NO, NO, _NO_! This was such an awful idea!"

Dean has to admit, it's almost kind of hilarious seeing Cas like this. The calm and content CEO acting like a 5 year-old kid not in their right mind is fucking priceless; but at the same time, Dean feels like he needs to _protect him. _Maybe by instinct, given the fact he's been watching over Sammy for years, but whatever it is, Dean needs to be there.

Dean turns towards Castiel and freezes.

His arm was _already _around Castiel's shoulder, gripped tightly on the other end and pulling Castiel close into him and leaning into his chest. Cas' hand was coiled in Dean's shirt, and he was breathing heavy and warm against Dean's neck.

_WHEN THE FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN?_

It was just _instinct_. His body has a mind of it's own around him, and Dean's fingers curled across his shivering skin, pressing Cas closer to him, until he feels the rapid beat of his heart echoing into his own body.

Dean swallows and presses his chin to Castiel's hair, "There's another hill coming, and then the big one," He says as calmly as he can, and he feels Castiel's grip on his shirt tense, "Are you going to be okay?"

"This is the epitome of imprudent ideas," Castiel groans, his breath uneven and shaky into Dean's skin, so close that Dean feels Cas' lips skim his neck, "So to answer your question, no."

Cas is driving Dean insane. Fuck Cas being scared, _fuck everything, _because Dean is so close, so fucking close to just fucking _kissing him. _There's heated breath on his neck and Cas' lips are whispering and brushing against it, and Dean wants more. Cas' hands are still tightly pressed into him, both coiled tightly around the cloth of his shirt, along with Cas' rapidly rising chest crushed into Dean's side. Dean can feel the _warmth, _the _tension, _and every other little feeling in between in the center of his core.

Cas' nails dig into Dean's skin when they go down the second biggest hill, and if it was any possible, Dean's pressing him closer into him, as close as they can possibly get. "It's okay, one more and it's over. It's over."

"Son of a _fuck._" Cas cries, and Dean can't help but smile when he hears Castiel swear like that. Needless to say, it's _hot._

They turn a small corner, and Dean hitches when he sees the dark tunnel. The annoying music starts playing louder, and Dean begins rubbing Cas' shoulder, "Almost over, almost over. Just hold on to me, and you'll be fine, okay Cas?"

Cas shakes his head, "I'm such an idiot! Why did I come on this ride!?" He yelps, throwing his arms across Dean's chest, and pulling him in, "Dean, I can't do this."

_Well, you don't really have a choice..._

Dean takes a deep breath, entwining a fist full of Cas' hair in his hand as he leans his forehead into the side of Cas' temple. Dean see's Cas shutting his eyes so tightly, and it only gets worse when he feels the elevation of the ride start to increase.

_Fuck it._

"Cas look at me," Dean whispers in his ear, but Cas doesn't respond, and he continues to clutch onto his shirt, his body shaking against Dean's stable one, "Cas! Fucking look at me, dammit." Dean roars, his hand that was once holding onto Castiel's arm now cupping the side of his face and leaning it towards him.

Castiel's eyes open wide, and they're glassy and red; clearly overwhelmed with fear. He's still shivering as Dean starts to rub the underside of his jaw with his thumb, "Just look at me. Just watch me. Just forget everything and watch me."

Looking at Castiel gives Dean a different feeling every time. It's like every time is the first time. Like everything was moving in fast forward, and it's just them two, in the middle of it all. In a quick instant, Cas' face unwrinkles from hiding, his whole body sucking in a breath as Dean continues to hold his face exactly where he wants it to be. Dean moves his hand to the back of Castiels' neck, and he feels his heart pulse quicker when Castiel blinks slowly, an _emotion, _a _feeling, _a _strength_, illuminating from the icy blue crystals in his irises.

It was all one feeling, like a smooth raindrop falling to the surface, and exploding when it hits the ground, sending pieces everywhere and sinking into the depths of the earth. His eyes were shy, hidden behind a sheet of _hunger, desire, longing._

Cas' hands let go, his fingers unhinging from the fabric of Dean's shirt, resting softly on his chest. His eyes refused to leave, and Dean knows that as long as his hand never breaks from his face, Cas will never pull back, because he won't have the _power _to. Cas is in the palm of his hand, and he's in the palm of Cas'.

_Just look at me._

Cas never stops. Never breaks, never blinks, never takes a glance. The ride down was a mystery, lost in the embedded surroundings. Only when a wave of water attacks them out of nowhere does Dean start breathing again, unhinging his hand from Cas' neck. Dean starts laughing, his hand wiping the water that coated his face. Cas laughs shortly after, rubbing his eyes to rid the dripping water.

"Easy, right?" Dean says, and Castiel scooches away a little, an impending smile growing on his face. He looks down and shrugs with a sly grin, but doesn't say anything. Dean sucks in the side of his cheek and wonders if _that _meant the same thing to Cas as it did to him. And then he wonders if Cas just thinks Dean would be a good hook-up instead of a _relationship._

_Wait what? No, I'm not looking for a relationship. I'm already in one...aren't I...?_

As if Lisa and his _relationship _even qualified _as _a _"relationship". _

Dean's thought is interrupted brutally by a huge wave of water slapping him across the face. He spits out disgusting water and rubs his eyes, only to look over and see Castiel laughing and smiling like an idiot.

"That was for not convincing me to get off this ride when we had the chance!" Cas giggles, his smile spreading wide across the stubble on his face.

Dean slicks his hair back, "Oh, you little fucker!" He laughs and reaches his hand over the side of the raft and scoops as much water as he can into his hand. Cas' eyes widen when he sees the tsunami coming his way, but keeps laughing anyway as he shapes his now soaking wet hair into a mo-hawk shape on the top of his head.

Cas puckers his lips and sucks in his cheeks. "New look?"

Dean rubs his chin and examines the spiky hair. "Totally, dude. Don't forget to dye it orange after. That'll really make your eyes pop."

"You know I never really noticed how green you're eyes were," Cas smiles and shakes his head as he presses his hair back down, ruffling it up a bit to just give it that little _kick. _Dean was too absorbed in Castiel's hair to understand what he meant, and he's just thankful that his jeans are too uncomfortable to give him a boner.

The ride comes to a stop, and Dean steps out after Cas, ringing out his shirt. He looks down a grimaces, because he's practically floating in his own shoes, and he feels his jeans clinging to him in places it really shouldn't be clinging to. Dean looks up at Cas and freezes when he notices the grey _AC/DC _t-shirt sticking to every curve, every inch, every muscle of Cas' torso.

_Sweet fucking Christ.  
><em>

Cas is _soaking _wet, his hair still dripping and sticking up in all different directions as he musses it up with his hands. It's nearly _impossible _for Dean _not _to stare. His mouth is crooking upwards in such a way that it almost _suggests _they should "take it to the bedroom". The hair on his forehead is too wet and heavy to stand, and now hangs over the long lashes on his eyes, and droplets come from his hairline above his temple, dripping down across his face and trailing his formed jaw until it breaks from his skin and drips to the ground.

Cas grabs the front end of his shirt and rings it out, revealing the lower part of his abdomen and back, which, _thankfully, _Dean has a nice side-view of both. His jeans are heavy and wet and hanging low on his hips just above the cleft of his ass, and Dean draws his full attention to the "V" on the lower part of his back. His pants hug his legs in such a way that Dean can also see quite clearly the outlined bulge at the front of his jeans.

_Son of a fuck. _

"Dean are you alright?"

Dean swallows and coughs a little, "Yeah, why?"

Cas shrugs, "You seemed to be spacing." He says and he shakes his hands and sneers at his wet clothes, "Here, let's get some dry clothes."

Cas leads him to a small store where he ends up buying them both Disneyland black sweatshirts with the logo on the front and grey sweatpants for Dean, and dark blue for himself, that Cas looks drop dead _adorable _in. They walk out of the store, plastic bag in Dean's hand to carry the wet clothes. Dean almost wishes Castiel was still in the dripping clothes, only because he looked so _fucking _hot in them. They just outlined every single curve of his body, almost like a second layer of skin. Dean has to shake the thought away, because now he was comfortably in sweatpants that could _easily _allow him to get a boner instead of those jeans.

Castiel taps Dean on the shoulder, "Hey, look!" He yells, running away from Dean. Dean's eyes follow him to a small $1 game booth.

_Oh god, not these._

Dean walks up next to Castiel and he's staring intently at the little plastic aliens inside the booth in the back that are attached to metal rods and moving back and forth rapidly across the platform. He also eyes the array of colored teddy bears across the side of the booth.

"Have you ever played one of these before?" Dean asks, and Cas immediately shakes his head and smiles.

"No, but I would like to."

Dean reaches in the plastic bag and pulls out his disgustingly wet wallet, and whips out two damp dollars from the pocket. Cas is bouncing on his feet like a five year old kid when Dean hands the guy the bills.

The guy sighs, a long and breathy groan, one that says "_I really love my job_", and he sets up the little toy-gun machine. "Okay, you have six shots. Knock an alien down and you get a bear."

Dean takes a step back, eager to admire this, because he knows that this can only go one way. And oh boy, he was right.

The first shot was probably the funniest thing Dean has ever seen in his life. Cas holds the gun right in front of his chest and leans his head back so he's making almost like twenty chins as he tries to aim the little Bebe gun at the moving plastic aliens. He fires, but none of them actually find out where the first one went.

Cas fires the last two almost impossibly quickly, one right after the other, and he stomps his foot on the ground when none of the little aliens fall over. "Dammit!" He yells.

Dean laughs and steps next to him, "No, Cas, hold it like this." Dean takes the gun from Castiel's hand and aims it, both hands straight in front of him at eye level. He grins to himself before he shoots. He knew target practice with cans and bottles with Bobby and Sam would pay off someday.

He shoots, and not a second later, a little plastic alien falls to its death. The guy behind the counter looks at him with a bemused glare. "Don't count that one as a hit," Dean says, his hand brushing his sweatshirt, "Pretend I missed."

Cas scoffs, "What? How did you-?"

Dean laughs, "Alright, did you see what I did? Try that." He says with a smirk as he hands the confused looking Castiel the gun. Cas reluctantly takes it and shakes his head. He raises his arms in front of him, but Dean notices he's still not at eye-level and he's not closing one eye to get a better accuracy mark. Sure enough, Cas fires and misses again.

"I only have one shot left." Cas frowns.

_Hey, why not, right?_

Dean moves behind him and presses his crotch to the side of Cas' ass and Dean feels Cas tense almost immediately. He places one hand across his back and on his shoulder while the other is raised with Castiel's with the fun. He leans down into the crook of Castiel's shoulder and whispers hot and heated directly into his ear.

"Close one eye, it helps with aim," Dean says smoothly, and he hears Cas suck a breath in. Cas swallows and closes his eye, but Dean decides to take the torture just a _little _bit further. He steps behind Castiel completely and presses his dick directly into Castiel's ass, one hand on the curve of his hip and the other around his body supporting his arms.

Cas _squeals._

"Like-like this?" Cas asks dryly and hesitantly, peeking over his shoulder and taking a quick glimpse of Dean's face, but he gapes away quickly when their eyes meet. Dean smirks to himself.

"Yeah, Cas, _just_ like that." Dean groans in his ear, and the hand resting on Cas' hip swipes across the curve of his back. Dean sees Cas swallow and exhale sharply. Dean chews on his bottom lip, because this wasn't just torture for Cas, it was even more for _him. _

Cas shoots, and a little plastic alien falls to its death.

"Holy shit!" Cas yelps, and he hitches his body and smiles and laughs in excitement, "Dean did you see that?"

"Badass Cas over here." Dean laughs, his hand raising up Cas' back and receiving a shiver from the man. Dean looks at the array of colored teddy bears on the shelf and points to one. "That orange one. We'll take the orange one."

"No, wait."

Dean turns to Cas and notices that he doesn't have his eyes on the orange one at all. Cas smiles at the guy behind the counter and points to another one. "Can I have the green one please?"

Dean scoffs, "What happened to orange being your favorite color?"

Cas smiles softly and accepts the teddy bear from the man, thanking him before he starts to walk away. Dean follows him and watches as Cas holds the stuffed bear close to his chest. Cas looks at the bear, and then at Dean and smiles even more, enough that his eyes begin to crinkle on the sides. He stares at Dean for a long time, his eyes flickering back and forth between each one.

"Don't know. I kinda like green now."


	6. Chapter 6

It's funny how the unsaid can be heard so easily sometimes, especially when all you need to do is just _look. _How just the mere glimpse of a frozen second in time can mean a million different things, or can leave you thinking of all the different possibilities. It really is, quite funny in fact, how not saying anything at all can truly voice more than the longest speech.

Pictures.

A frozen second in time. With each pixel lies an untold story, a _word, _a _feeling. _

Dean rubs his thumbs on the corners of the shiny paper, biting his lip as he stares at what the camera had caught.

Sam snatches it from him. "How much longer are you gonna stare at this thing?" He whines. Dean leans over across the diner table and carefully pulls it from his brothers fingers, careful not to crinkle the frail paper.

"I'm not staring at it, dammit." Dean groans, folding it back up and putting it in his jacket pocket.

"Then what exactly _are _you doing with it?"

Dean sighs. As much as he loves his brother, Sam has the uncanny ability to be a little shit at the worst times. Okay, _sure, _Dean was staring at it...but how can he not? He had paid twenty bucks for the damn photo op that Castiel just _had to have _from their adventure on _Splash Mountain, _so dammit, he's allowed to stare at it all he wants.

But it also might be the fact that Dean just _can't stop looking at it. _Ugly bruises fading on his face aside, the way his arm is wrapped around the back of Castiel's neck, the other on his jaw line, thumb swaying against the bone, is hard _not _to look at. Or it might be the way Castiel has his hands coiled in Dean's shirt on his sides, pulling him closer. Or maybe the way Castiel is looking at him, with trust, with admiration, with _hunger. _Or maybe, just fucking maybe, the way _he's _looking at Castiel; as if he was the only other human in the world, as if he was staring into a mirror and looking at his own reflection. As if, he was hearing the unsaid.

"I've never seen you like this, Dean."

Dean props his head up, "What do you mean?"

"You're happy." Sam scoffs and shakes his head, "I mean, really happy."

Dean makes a face, because it most certainly sounded like Sam was trying to make a _point. _"What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam shrugs, "I'm just saying. I mean, since Lisa and what she did with Benny and—"

"Get to the point, Sam." Dean cuts him off. And suddenly, he doesn't feel so in-the-mood for pie anymore, and he pushes the apple crusted treat away from him and leans against the diner cushioned seat.

"I don't really have a point. I'm just saying—you and Cas, are-are," Sam pauses and pushes his plate away too, and Dean see's his eyes trail away and ponder, "good together."

_Good together?_

But they're not even _together. _Technically speaking if they were in high-school, he and Cas would considerably have a "_thing_", which Dean now decides is the _proper _word for this situation. "We have a _thing_, 'kay?"

Sam furrows his brows at him and just gives him the "_I-am-totally-judging-you" _face. "What are you? Like twelve? You're a mature adult, Dean. If you like the guy, then you like the guy. If he likes you, then he likes you."

Dean stares at his brother like he has three heads. Was he forgetting about the most important thing here? Can his _brother_ actually be so _stupid_?

"Sam, I'm getting married."

Dean swallows when he see's Sam shake his head with a huff. His brother stands, long and broad shoulders clenching angrily as he stomps his feet out the door, shoving the glass diner door open.

Dean watches him go out into the morning air, and he digs for cash in his pocket and throws it on the table. "What did I say?" He whispers to himself, following his obviously strained brother outside.

He finds Sam by his car, pacing back and forth as he grinds his teeth.

Dean watches him with confusion. "Did I hit the panic button or something?"

"Why are you with Lisa? After what she did to you? After she _cheated_? After she _lied_? After everything she did?! Why are you still with her?!"

Not every question requires an answer, and Dean knows that this one surely didn't. Because there _is no answer. _There is no explanation, no reason, no purpose. Dean is with Lisa because he just _is. _Dean swallows, trying to avoid the massive lump that's blocking his airways, but the more he tries to avoid it, the more it seems to be making it harder to breathe.

Dean shakes his head and shrugs, "Because I am. I don't know what—"

"No! You're with her because you think you don't deserve any better!"

_God dammit, Sammy._

Dean parts his mouth to say something, but he doesn't respond. There's no use in arguing, because Sam was right, like always. He doesn't think he deserves anyone better, especially Castiel. He knows he'll hurt Castiel, intentional or not, he just knows it. Dean's always been the one to _be_ hurt, and the thought of him _causing_ it is an entirely different feeling; something that makes Dean feel sick to his stomach.

Dean wishes he could hurt Lisa like she hurt him, but he knows if was given the opportunity, he wouldn't. He's been told that when someone treats him like shit, there's something wrong with them, not him. But no matter how many times he's reminded of that, it's not convincing.

He doesn't deserve Cas, and that's final.

"I'm here for a week, Sam. That's it. Done. Then I'm _leaving_." Dean says sternly, his teeth clenching between his jaws, "And what? You think I should just leave everything behind and go with Cas?"

"If that's what you want."

_It's what I want._

The feeling of consideration that grows in Dean's stomach is almost sickening. He can't believe himself. He actually wants it, but there's a roadblock in the way. There's unanswered questions, doubts, uncertainty. What would happen to Lisa and Ben? What if Cas doesn't want him like that? He'd be giving up _everything_, for a single chance.

"Don't settle for a relationship that won't let you be yourself, Dean." Sam says, a slight sincerity in the grave tone of his voice. Dean looks to his brother, his golden whiskey hair swaying in the chill of the wind. "I know that look. That's your 'I hate when you're right' look."

Dean stifles a laugh, "I hate when you're right about me hating you about being right." He says, and he see's Sam smirk.

Sam takes a deep breath, "Alright enough bitching. C'mon." Sam says with his eyebrows raised, "We have a family dinner to get to."

Dean's spine stiffens. "Wait what?"

"Oh, c'mon, don't tell me you forgot." Sam laughs, his keys jingling when he takes them out of his pocket. Sam's eyes squint and he crinkles his nose, his face serious but apologetic, and Dean knows _exactly _what that means._  
><em>

"Dad's gonna be there, isn't he?" Dean swallows.

Sam doesn't say anything.

"Shit."

* * *

><p>"Maybe he'll be in a better mood this time."<p>

_Yeah, sure._

Dean _tsks _at his brother and glares at him, his eyes searching for emotion; though, there wasn't any. Sam's eyes remain tight and focused on the road, and Dean knows that it's just his brother's way of avoiding the truth.

Dean contemplates responding, or making a wise-ass remark, but he knows that _Sam _already knows. The last time John Winchester was in a good mood...well, Dean c_an't _remember the last time John Winchester was in a good mood.

Was it when Sam got accepted into Stanford Law School?

_No._

Or when Sam announced his engagement?

_No._

How about when _Dean _announced _his _engagement?

_HELL NO._

John was down-right _furious _when Dean announced his engagement with Lisa. Not _just _because he hates her, but because it was _Dean. _It was _Dean_ that was the one going on with his life; _Dean_ who was the one who gets to have a family; _Dean_...not _John_.

Dean's surprised Sam had the balls to invite their Dad to the wedding, even more so that he invited him to a family dinner. Dean rolls his eyes and leans his head against the window.

_Oh boy, nothin' like a good ol' family dinner to brighten up the day._

Dean shuts his eyes. He knows that as long as he keeps his mouth shut, it won't be _half _as bad as it usually is. That is of course, if he _can _keep his mouth shut. There's no telling what will happen at his Dad's; but Dean's got a feeling in the pit of his stomach that isn't good.

The rest of the ride is quiet between them, even more so when Sam turns the music down after Dean's turned it up. Dean fiddles with the stations.

"Dude," Sam swats Dean hand away from the knob and turns back to his girly shit, "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole."

Dean scoffs, "Woah, hey! You can't use my own words against me!"

"When we're not in your car, I choose."

Dean lets out a heavy breath and purses his lips to the side. He just wants to sit down on black leather couches, curl up in a ball and watch _Star Trek. _With a friend. With his blue-eyed friend. With his blue-eyed, gorgeous, irresistibly dangerous _crush._

Dean feels a tap on his knee.

"Alright, Dean. Ready?"

Dean looks up to see his Dads place, blue chipped paint, plants and vines attacking the sides of the house like it hasn't been cared for in years. Dean turns to Sam and swallows, "Not really, no."

Sam's eyes trail down as he pulls the key out of the ignition, a long breath when he pushes out of the car and shuts the door, leaving Dean alone in the passenger seat.

Dean nods, "Two hours. That's it. Just two hours." He says to himself, reluctantly getting up and shutting the car door, running to catch up to his brother at the front door. Sam has already knocked.

Dean taps his foot on the ground, his body hitching when the door swings open.

He sighs in relief at the old scruffy bearded man at the door. "Bobby," Dean smiles subtly as Bobby takes Dean's shoulder with a firm hand.

"Dean, Sam. Was startin' 'ta get a little worried you wouldn't show up." Bobby adjusts the ratty cap on his head, "Glad you boys could make it."

Dean walks in a gets a whiff of _actual _food instead of microwaved crap. "And I'm glad you guys didn't burn the house down."

"Oh you can thank Karen for that. Girl wanted to cook all by herself." Bobby takes Dean and Sam's jacket and hangs them on the coat-rack, a slight grin on his face, "Not that she would let John 'er I cook anyways."

Dean steps in a little farther, noticing the crooked pictures hanging from the walls, so dusty that the picture itself couldn't be seen. There was still a musty smell in the air, despite the freshly cooked food.

"I heard that!" Karen yells from the kitchen, and soon she comes out, red oven mits wrapped tightly around what _appeared _to be green-bean casserole. She hovers for a few moments before setting the dish on the table. "Oh, hello boys," She gives them each a kiss on the cheek, "I swear you two get more handsome each time I see you."

"They get that from their father."

_Shit._

That's when Dean's heart picks up. The sound of his voice hasn't changed; still deep and vigorous, so much emotion kept in. Dean hesitates before turning, coming face to face with a _familiar_ yet _unfamiliar_ face.

"Sam. Dean." John says, his eyes vaguely squinted against his wrinkled face. Dean looks him over, and he can tell by the salt and pepper scruff that he hasn't shaved in a while, nor gotten a decent haircut. He's wearing a forest green tee-shirt with a bluish gray over-shirt that both look like they haven't been washed in a while, as well as torn dark jeans that clearly need to go.

Dean stands still, as well as his brother, allowing their Dad to _look them over._

"Good to see you two." John says finally after a while, eying Dean more than Sam.

Dean wishes he can say the same. But instead he just nods his head and lets his younger brother take over.

"It's good seeing you too, Dad." Sam sucks in a breath and exhibits a half-ass smile, his arm wrapping around the side of their Dad for a quick hug. John smiles, his dimples digging deep into his skin, and Dean can see where Sam gets it from. If only _he _could've been that lucky.

"Let's not waste any time, shall we?" John lets go of Sam, patting Dean on the shoulder before he motions towards the table, now covered in a buffet of food. John whips past Dean, and he smells like gasoline, cigarettes, and whiskey. Nothing new.

It's a little bizarre at first, how nice John is being. Sam notices it too, taking quick glances back and forth between Dean next to him, and his father at the head of the table. Dean clears his throat, plopping a spoonful of mashed potatoes on his plate.

"Karen this looks wonderful," John grins at her as he puts a steak onto his plate. Karen looks down and smiles at him. "So Sam," John begins, a forkful of green beans in his mouth, "Ruby?"

Sam nods. "She's great," He says, finishing his chewing and swallowing before he begins talking again, "We're both very excited for Wednesday. She was going to come tonight, but she's a little hyped up right now. Pre-wedding stuff."

"She's _always _hyped up," Dean smiles, and he hears Sam and Bobby grunt a laugh while Karen giggles. John didn't laugh. In fact, he did quite the opposite; scrutinizing him, his eyes dark and incensed. Dean stops smiling and reverts his attention back to his plate, which suddenly looks so completely unappetizing its almost disgusting.

"So Wednesday, huh?" John says again, "Why the postpone?"

Sam sighs. "Ruby had a mishap with her dress..." Sam trails off, wiping his grinning mouth with his fingers, "See, we got a dress in the mail, but-but it wasn't _our _dress."

Dean chokes a laugh, "What do you mean it wasn't _your _dress?"

Sam looks around the table at the intrigued eyes around him, and Dean bites his tongue because this _has _to be good.

"Well I don't think Ruby is the traffic-cone orange with giant-ass, frilly bows on the back of it type."

Karen huffs a laugh and Bobby just rolls his eyes. Dean scratches the back of his neck, "Hey, that dress would _totally _suit her." Dean jokes, elbowing Sam on the shoulder. Sam shakes his head and smiles at him.

"Seriously, Dean?"

Dean's eyes find his fathers.

_Not good._

"Dad," Dean sucks in a shaken breath, "I was just kidding. Sam knows–"

"At least Sam _likes _the person he's marrying."

The table goes silent.

Dean feels his stomach twist into a tight knot. His lips roll into a line as his Dad leans forward and places his elbows against the wooden table, tilting his head.

"How is Lisa by the way?" Johns eyes squint, "Good?"

Dean nods, parting his lips to say something but the words won't slide off his tongue properly, "It's, uh, she-she's fine."

"Ben?"

"Fine."

"_Benny?_"

Silence again.

It's not so much as a _silence; _as it is more of a _speechlessness._

"John," Bobby says harshly, but John shushes him.

"I want to know." John glares at Dean, and Dean can feel his eyes piercing right through him all the way down into his core.

"I wouldn't know." Dean responds, his back stiff and aching. He feels the need to respond to his Dad, like he doesn't have a choice. Of course, John _had _to bring _this _up. Of _course _ he did. Dean almost wants to start laughing; how could he think he could have a family dinner without John bringing up _this_.

John _tsks _at him as he shakes his head. "Shame." He says, standing from the table with his plate.

Dean can feel the heat in his stomach, getting ready to explode right out of him. Sam clearly see's him ready to implode.

"Dean," Sam whispers under his breath, his hand slightly touching Dean's shoulder, trying to grab it to keep him steady...but it's too late.

Dean stands from the table, "It wasn't my fault!" He yells, his fist slamming on the wooden table so hard that Sam's drink spills onto his lap. Dean ignores it.

Karen gasps, "I'll go get napkins," She whispers, her face white as she scurries away into the other room.

John watches her leave, then returning his gaze to Dean, who is now ready to smash his father's face into a Goddamn concrete wall. John sets his plate down onto the table, next then taking a few steps toward Dean.

"Not your fault?" John repeats, his head shaking ever so slightly and his mouth curving at the side. "Not your fault that Lisa cheated on you?" John huffed a laugh, his teeth peaking through his lips. "It _is _your fault, Dean."

More heat is rising into Dean's stomach.

_Keep it in, Dean. Keep it in._

Dean feels tired, exhausted, as if he had just run ten miles. His breath is coming out in quick and shallow rasps, and all he can see is a sheet of red in front of his eyes. "It's her fault–" Dean starts, but then is cut off by his father's militant laughter.

"No, Dean. It's _yours_. You didn't treat her well enough. That's why she did it." John spits, now only inches from him, hot and heavy breath against his face. Dean can feel a heavy weight begin to press into his chest. "You don't treat her right like Sam treats Ruby. You don't treat her right like Bobby treats Karen," John holds a pointed finger to his chest, and Dean feels as if it's stabbing through his skin, "You don't treat her right like...like _I __treated your mother_."

"John!" Bobby yells, but John ignores it, his finger is still held sharp up to Dean's chest, his eyes glassy and threatening.

Dean shakes his head, and he can feel the anger in his core so powerful that he begins to sweat. It wasn't true. It _couldn't _be. It wasn't his fault. There's so much anger whirling around his head, a tornado destroying everything in it's path, and before he can stop himself–

"I treat _him _right!" Dean screams, his hand shoving John's finger away from his chest, and John flinches as Dean motions forward. Dean hears Sam suck in a quick breath.

_Shit._

"What?" John's face morphs into disgust, "_What?_"

Dean remains still, fists clenched and sweaty. He could lie. He _really _could. But he doesn't.

"You heard me." Dean nods him head, his eyes struggling to blink, "_Him_."

Sam and Bobby both stand from the table, Sam placing his hand on John's shoulder but John shoves the hand off him.

"Excuse me?" John's jaw is dropped, his eyes wide and furrowed with horror, "You're-you're..._gay_?"

Dean swallows, "_So_?" He snaps, and it's like just saying the word "_so_" felt _so _good. Dean doesn't know why, but it does.

John makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. "You're a..._fag_! A fucking _faggot_!"

"Dad!" Sam shouts, and he pulls John's arm back until they're face to face, "What the fuck?"

John looks mortified, "My son...you're brother... is a fucking _faggot_!"

"_So_?" Sam shoves him away and turns to Dean, "Dean, let's go."

Dean's legs have a little trouble working, but with Sam's hand wrapped around his back, they agree to move. Dean's mind is winded.

_A faggot._

They're at the door when Dean hears the sudden clash of glass against the floor, followed by thumping footsteps against the floor.

"John, stoppit!" Bobby yells from the dining room.

"What would your mother say!?" John growls, and then there's silence, as Bobby unwillingly drags John into the other room.

Dean's legs don't work at all after that.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Buckle up._**

**_ This chapter takes off almost directly after the last one..._**

* * *

><p>"Dean, wait."<p>

Dean ignores it. There's too much going on his head right now to listen, let alone care.

"Dean!"

He feels a tight grip on his elbow, pulling him back. He turns, his eyes meeting his brother's; serious, but at the same time, _scared. _Dean knows what his brother wants to do, but Dean _doesn't _want this emotional talk right now, especially with Sam. He just needs to _simmer down._

"Sam, I'm not in the mood." Dean spits at him, his legs pulling him down the hotel hallway. Sam doesn't let go of his arm.

"Dean let's just talk about it—"

"There's nothing to talk about!" Dean interrupts him, his voice raging louder than he intends it to. His heart's pounding in his chest and he's not sure how much longer his ribs can take it. Sam stands in front of him, and soon his hand uncoils from Dean's arm.

Dean knows his brother means well. He does, really. But Sam _should _know that Dean's not, and will never be, the '_talk out my feelings_' type. He just holds it all in, because its better for everyone else that way.

"Look," Sam starts, his chest rising up and down hesitantly, "I don't want to talk about this either, but—"

"Then don't!"

Sam's lips roll into a thin line, his eyes sinking. Dean sees Sam's chest deflate, as if he had been holding his breath for a long time and he just finally let's it out. Dean wishes he could talk about it, he really does, but he just _can't. _It's not _who he is_. Or, maybe, he hasn't found someone who _gets _who he is.

Dean parts his lips, but Sam raises his chest again.

"Dammit, Dean, you're my brother," Sam scoffs an agitated laugh and shakes his head, "But sometimes, you can be _such _a _jerk_." He says, and there's a seriousness to his tone, and Dean knows that Sam isn't joking around; that he's actually calling Dean a jerk.

Dean shuts his eyes and takes a breath, "That's my job, Sam—"

"Oh shut it, Dean," Sam hisses, his face scrunching into a unstrung glare, "I don't need any of your '_I'm just not a talking-type of person' _crap. You ever think that maybe _that's_ the reason you're so angry all the time? Is because you never talk to people? I can't do anything unless you talk to me! It's just—"

Sam's voice breaks when the door next to them swings open. Sam stands up straight, his eyes widening like a deer in headlights.

Dean doesn't even need to turn to know who it is, but he does it anyways.

"Cas," Dean starts, but can't really finish his sentence. Cas is just standing there, his full, pink lips parted and eyebrows pyramiding at the top. In his _goddamn _black v-neck t-shirt that Dean likes, and those _g__od for saken _sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips. Like really, does the guy have anything else to wear?

"I-I," Castiel swallows, his gaze flicking between Dean and Sam, "I heard yelling. I wanted to make sure everyone was well."

"Not right now, Castiel," Sam exclaims, chewing on his lip. His voice is deeper than usual and his eyes refuse to look up to meet Castiel's.

On the other hand, Dean refuses to take his eyes _away _from Castiel's. A part of him is mad at him, for some reason, and he doesn't know why, but he is. Another part of him feels… something _different. _His anger and his _unknown _feeling keep arguing with each other, bickering back and forth like an old married couple. Dean doesn't know which one will eventually win.

Castiel shakes his head slightly. "If you need my assistance, let me know and I'd be happy to—"

"Not right fucking now, Castiel!" Sam shouts, his voice loud and aggressive, and Dean sees Castiel flinch. Castiel swallows hard, and Dean realizes that he's _scared. _His eyes blink rapidly, and at the moment, all Dean wants to do is just _touch him._

Castiel nods, his eyes staring directly at his feet as he backs away slowly, shutting the door in front of him.

Its quiet for a few moments, and Dean looks at Sam like he had just committed a crime.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean whispers quietly, and Sam grinds his teeth, his eyebrows hollowing, "Why did you talk to him like that?"

Sam looks up, "This is between us. And us only."

"He was just trying to help."

"Since when do you want help?"

Dean holds his breath. Or, _tries_ to hold his breath, but instead he realizes that all the breath has instead been sucked out of him, and he actually _can't breathe._

"Shoot me a call when you're ready to talk like a mature human being." Sam says sternly. Dean doesn't even see him leave. He just stands in front of his room, his eyes searching endlessly, his lips twitching trying to find words to say. First Dad, now Sam.

What next?

His emotions are fucking around with him again, anger fighting with uncertainty, and now Dean feels like he's going to be sick. He just doesn't know what to do, and he doesn't know why.

_Suck it up. Just suck it up._

Dean lets out a huff, turning to let himself in his room. He grabs the knob, but then his head turns...to Cas' door. He's just staring at it, _wanting to go in. _He grinds his teeth down, his jaw clenches tightly as he shakes his head.

"No," Dean whispers, forcing himself to open his own door. He lets himself in, and flops hard on the bed. He's got this nauseous feeling in the back of his throat and the feelings whipping around in his stomach still haven't come to an agreement.

And then his phone rings, stinging his ears so much he actually feels like they might be bleeding. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the name on the screen.

_Sexiest Fiancé Ever._

"Oh, well that's just peachy, isn't it?" Dean groans, and he sits up stretching his back as he flips his phone and holds it to his ear.

"_Dean?"_

"Hey, Lis." Dean rubs his forehead, and it's hot and sweaty and throbbing. He feels fucking _disgusting._

"_John called."_

Dean's eyes go wider than they've ever been before. The sickness he felt only moments ago compares _nothing _to what he feels now. He parts his mouth to say something, but no words _dare _come out.

"_Who is it, Dean? Who's this...this guy?"_

Dean wants to hang up. _God, _he wants to hang up. But he's frozen there, his adrenaline surging rapidly through his veins.

"I-I, he's–" Dean makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. He's pushing the words out, he really is, but for some reason, they won't make a noise.

This is when Dean realizes there's no way out. There's no way in hell that he can make excuses through this. He's fucked up. He's lost Sam's ring, he's disappointed his brother, he's come out to his _homophobic _father, and now he's most likely lost Lisa, all because of an accidental spark of feeling that grew.

Dean swallows hard, and there's a moment that he feels like there's nails digging down his throat. And he sits on the edge of the bed, his chest rising and falling hesitantly, and he realizes...that there's nothing left to lose.

And he feels _free. _There's so much to gain, so much to earn, so much to _give. _It's back to square one now, and the freedom means he has to choose his own burden.

And this moment right now sure as hell wasn't it.

"His name is Castiel."

"_Who is this? Dean, what have you done?"_

Dean stands up and shakes his head, "Lisa," He starts, an angered expression plastered onto his face, "I think we need to reevaluate our relationship."

Dean's eyes go wide.

_Did I actually just say that?_

Dean hears Lisa huff a sarcastic laugh. "_Are you fucking kidding me?"_ She raises her voice, and Dean's fingers wrap around the phone tighter.

"I just think—"

"_You wanna' call off the engagement for some guy? Since when are you into dick?!"_

Dean starts to see spots of red in his eyes again, and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself a little to prevent screaming and waking up half the hallways. "Look, I—"

"_I can't believe you, Dean! You've ruined this relationship!"_

Dean jaw drops. That was by far the most _absurd _thing Dean has ever heard in his _life._ Now he's not _just_ seeing shades of red, but he _is _red.

"Are you _fucking _insane?" Dean raises his voice unintentionally, "_I _fucked up this relationship? _Really_?"

Lisa doesn't respond.

There's so much anger seething through Dean's chest right now its almost unbearable, and there's no way of knowing what'll end up coming out of his mouth.

"At least I don't sleep with my boyfriends best friends! And then name my _fucking kid_ after them!"

_Oh, shit._

Dean sucks in a breath. _That _was an accident. A cruel, cruel, accident. But _holy shit, _did that feel good. Dean covers his mouth, contemplating whether he should just throw his phone out the window and move to a different country and change his name.

"_That's it. I'm coming to California."_

Lisa hangs up.

Dean's stomach twists.

_Oh, shit. Oh fucking SHIT._

That _actually_ just happened. Dean basically just _broke up _with Lisa.

Dean doesn't know if Lisa was kidding or not, but _god _he hopes so. He doesn't even want to think about what would happen if Lisa came up. That would be a nightmare that Dean would never wake up from.

Dean slams his phone and throws it against the wall. "Fuck!" He screams, his sweaty hands finding his even sweatier face and running them across it. He feels like his skin is burning, and he takes his jacket off, whipping that right across the room too. His arms are sweating, and Dean can feel it dripping down his back too. The grey t-shirt does little to hide the water-marks on his skin.

Dean just needs to _throw something._

He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out his cluttered wallet and throwing it against the wall, sending little pieces of paper and money flying out of it.

And also, a picture.

Dean's head turns toward the upside-down folded picture, ends crinkled. His chest is heaving, and he walks slowly over towards it, picking it up and running his thumb over the newly formed creases in the smooth surface.

Him and Cas.

Dean forgets why he's mad, and instead reminds himself that he has _nothing left to lose. _Nothing left to gamble; nothing important anyways. His lip twitches into a small smile, that soon leads him stomping out the door and knocking hard on the door next to his.

Dean really doesn't know what he's doing, but he can't seem to stop.

The door swings open, and Castiel looks almost frightened, his lips parted and eyes wide.

"Dean?" He says, his voice broken and confused. And Dean can't blame him, considering what he had seen between him and Sam. Castiel stares at him waiting for a response. But Dean doesn't have one.

There's no use in talking if that's not what he _wants_ to do.

So instead, he does exactly what he _wants_ to do.

And he doesn't hesitate doing it either.

He grabs the sides of Castiel's face and crushes his lips against his.

Castiel gasps, and Dean feels him tighten underneath his fingers. And it's short, lasting only a second to Dean, but his lips taste and feel _exactly _like what Dean had imagined; sweet like honey but soft and _dangerous._ His heart is only seconds away from bursting through his chest, and he hears this rapid pulse in his ears, like beating wings.

But in the moment their lips touched, Dean knew that the feelings in his stomach had finally come to an agreement.

Dean pulls away, his fingers still cupped around the sides of Castiel's face, tingling above the thin stubble coated across his flexed jaw.

Castiel's eyes are wide, his pupils leaving only a line of the glistening blue, and his lips are frozen, wet and parted. His mouth twitches to say something, but nothing comes out, and Castiel just stares at him.

"Do you want—" Dean swallows, inches away from Castiel's face, so close he can see his own reflection in Castiel's eyes, "—do you want me to do it again?"

As _if_ that was really a question.

"Please."

Dean hooks his hands around the back of Castiel's neck, pulling his face in, this time making their bodies press up against each other enough that Dean feels the heat radiating off his skin. Castiel seems to melt against him, his tongue pushing into Dean's mouth slowly.

Castiel intertwines his hands into the collar of Dean's shirt, grabbing it and pulling him back into the room. Dean's got this feeling in the center of his chest that he's never experienced before, and it's driving him _crazy, _making his hands run over Castiel's body like he can't get enough of the feel of skin underneath his fingers.

And it's just _Cas. _The one person Dean's been most aching to feel against him. The one person who's eyes are so unexplainably different, the one who's voice is so strange and wild, the one who has the weirdest, most dangerously attractive hair that is wrecks him. All of it. It _wrecks _him.

Dean's hands start at Castiel's shoulders, but then caress down his back and to his hips, and soon he's resting his hands just above the cleft of Castiels' ass, pulling the man's hips closer to his own.

And then Dean feels it. Cas is _really hard. _He can feel Castiel's cock jutting hard through his sweatpants.

And then Dean realizes that he _himself _is hard too, and soon both of their hardened cocks are rutting against each other through thick material. And it's _strange. _Dean's not used to it. _Hell, _he's never done it. But somehow, the feeling he has is something he knows no girl could ever provide.

Dean presses Castiel against the wall, both hands climbing underneath the shirt as he dips down to lick the stubble on Castiel's neck. Dean's tongue swirls, sucking in skin, claiming _his _territory.

Castiel lets out a shaken breath, "Dean…" He whimpers quietly under his breath, and Dean feels Castiel's hands roughly entwine into his hair, "What about your girlf—"

"It's over, Cas." Dean separates his mouth from Castiel's skin for only a few seconds, but a few seconds is too long for Dean, and he starts biting at his neck again, "It's just you." He murmurs in between tender kisses, "I want _you_."

Castiel doesn't reply, but instead thrusts his hips forward against Dean's, and _Jesus Christ, _Dean feels like a fucking animal, clawing and biting at Castiel's skin. Dean bends to hook his arms under Castiel's legs, heaving him up around his waist. Dean places chaste kisses on his shoulders, skin soft like feathers against his tongue.

"Bed?" Dean motions, and Castiel just nods his head and smiles, planting another wet kiss onto Dean's open lips. Dean carries him, hands wrapped tightly around the man's ass as he lays him down on the bed, Dean's chest falling on top of Castiel's. The bed squeaks roughly, but soon Dean's lips are on his again, sucking on his tongue and lips, happy to finally feel what Castiel _tastes_ like, what he _feels_ like.

Dean shivers at the sudden feeling of hands crawling up his back, riding up his shirt and begging for it to be taken off. Dean obliges, letting Castiel roll off his shirt where his eyes then trail over Dean's body like it's a golden treasure. His hands soon follow his eyes, over his chest and abdomen, and soon Castiel's hands grasp Dean's hips and twists him over so now _Castiel _is on top.

And _holy fucking shit._

"Jesus, Cas." Dean sucks in a breath and watches as Castiel straddles him, rolling his own shirt up and exposing smooth and tanned skin, which Dean's hands are on only moments after exposure. Dean can't seem to take his eyes away. Castiel is honest to God, _fucking beautiful. _His flattened out abdomen slightly flexed, showing the outlines of muscle, the small trail of darkened hair leading down into his pants. The way his tongue is darting out to wet his swollen lips, the flushed pink of his face, his eyelashes fluttering dark and long on top of those eyes. He's _gorgeous._

Castiel leans down and presses their chests together, and Dean feels Castiel's beating heat through his skin. They're kissing again, swiftly, but hungrily and passionately, like they both _wanted_ this, like they both _needed _this.

Dean's hands trail down his sides and to the front of Castiel's pants, and Dean hesitates at first to slide them down, almost as if he's _unaware_ of what's going to happen when he does. But Dean wants this more than anything in the world right now, and his thumbs hook around the fabric, sliding them down, only to discover that Castiel had no _fucking underwear on._

_Son of a fuck._

Dean takes a gasp when he feels Castiel's bare cock ride against his stomach, wet and slippery from pre-come, and Dean almost doesn't want to look down, but he does. And it's actually kind of fucking _hot._

"Holy shit," Dean groans, a small whimper escaping his mouth when he see's the pink and swollen tip of Castiel's cock, his throbbing length, which is actually _way _bigger than expected. Dean swallows, wrapping his shaking hands around his pulsing cock and stroking upward, receiving a moan from the man on top of him.

"Oh God," Castiel cries, his hand clamping on Dean's chest, "_Yes, _faster, please." He murmurs, voice rough and hard, yet quiet and demanding.

Dean moves his hand down back to the base of Castiel's cock, to the small patch of hair at the base, and he feels Castiel's nails begin to dig into his skin. Dean begins stroking him, starting off slow and letting himself get used to the feel of a cock other than his own in his hand. Castiel moans loudly, and Dean feels his cock twitch. His pants need to be _off. _Now.

Dean isn't going to settle for a second base date. No, he _needs _to be _inside _him, and at the moment, if Dean doesn't get inside him quick, he just might in fact, die. There's aching desire in his belly, a warm tingling set into the center of his core that needs to come out.

Castiel leans down again, taking Dean's neck into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl against the skin. Dean lets out a breath at the feeling of Castiel being so close, and he scratches at Castiel's back. Castiel bites and nibbles, making his way up to Dean's ear and taking the lobe into his mouth, sucking and swirling. Dean feels fingers toying with his jeans and lends a helping hand, unhinging the metal clamps separating their skin from one another. And soon, clothes are being piled up at the end of Castiel's bed.

Castiel's mouth moves from his ear, taking a big step to his collar bone next, and Dean throws his head back against the pillows, deciding to let Castiel just _do his thing._

Castiel's teeth graze against his nipples, and Dean's back arches into him, the feeling of Castiel's tongue against his skin unbelievably mind-blowing.

Dean hisses through his teeth when he feels Castiel go lower, and now Cas is nipping at the edges of his hipbones. Red, rough marks are being placed against Dean's skin, and Cas' hand slips down from where it was placed at his hipbones, and he places it at the bulge in Dean's boxer briefs.

"Shit," Dean breathes when he feels Castiel hook his thumbs around the tight spandex, pulling it down and letting Dean's cock spring free. Dean bites down on his bottom lip, almost slightly embarrassed at the exposure. But he hears Cas suck in a breath and he props his head up.

_Shit_.

Cas is knelt down, ass in the air as his head tilts up at Dean, one hand wrapped tightly around Dean's cock, and the other placed on Dean's inner thigh.

_If he's doing what I think he's doing..._

"Oh, fuck!" Dean shouts as Cas dips his head without warning, his mouth wet and warm and circled around the head of Dean's cock. All Dean can do at this point is just hold on tight.

Dean lurches forward as if he had gotten punched in the stomach, his body twitching and inadvertently grabbing the back of Castiel's head to push him down farther.

"Holy _Christ_, Castiel!" Dean moans, his body falling back against the bed, his back arched and hand intertwined roughly into the back of Castiel's head. And Cas _stays _down, his mouth engulfing Dean's length for what seems like forever. Dean lets out a breathless moan when he feels his cock hit the back of Castiel's throat, but Castiel doesn't budge. His tongue presses against the sensitive underside of Dean's cock, and Dean thinks he might just come down Castiel's throat then and there.

Castiel moves his head off of Dean's cock, and Dean shivers at the cool air that hit's his erection. "Shit, Cas. You can deep throat?" Dean asks shockingly, and Castiel's hand runs up Dean's length again to spread his saliva.

"You like that, huh?" Castiel whispers deeply, his lips skimming the tip of Dean's cock. Dean sucks a breath in through his teeth, gazing at Castiel's shimmering blue eyes staring up at him.

"Do it again, " Dean breathes, barely being able to choke out the words, "_Please_." He begs, and _goddammit, _he doesn't care about what happens to him anymore. He _wants_ to be sore. He wants the hickeys, the bruises, the scratch marks. If this is a roller coaster going straight down to hell, _god-fucking-dammit, _Dean doesn't care if he's in the front seat or not.

Castiel smiles slightly, and then dips his head down, licking a stripe from the base of Dean's cock to the top, and then taking the swollen head into his mouth. Dean groans, his head falling back against the bed again as Castiel bobs his head forward down until the top of Dean's cock brushes the back of his throat. And he goes back up, and then down. And up, and down. And up, and down until Dean's legs are _shaking_.

Castiel comes up for a breath of air, his lips shiny and wet, "Jesus, Dean, you're huge." He groans, lowering his head again and taking his length down his mouth before Dean even has a chance to thank him, and what ends up coming out of his mouth instead is a choked out, muffled gasp for air.

Castiel gets his hands involved now, one hand fondling Dean's balls as the other follows his mouth moving up and down. And it is, by _far, _the best blow job Dean has ever gotten. The way Castiel is looking up at him, paying so close attention to Dean's movements yet so lost in his technique. Castiel slicks his tongue around the head and pushes it past the slit, licking up salty pre come as he lips enclose around it. He bobs downward again, swallowing Dean's cock until his nose was merely brushing against Dean's belly.

Dean shouts as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from coming.

And then Dean feels it, the start of his peak, but he won't allow himself to come now.

Not _yet_.

"Cas," Dean reluctantly hooks his hands under Castiel's shoulders, hoisting him forward until Castiel's lips meet his. Dean opens his mouth and let's Castiel's tongue slip in, tasting musk and salt against his own tongue. Dean parts his lips from his, "Cas I need you." He whispers against his lips quietly.

Castiel moves to Dean's neck, "You've got me," He says, nipping at Dean neck again, his cock brushing Dean's and only making his desire worsen.

"No, Cas, you don't understand." Dean grabs Castiel's shoulders, twists him around and presses him hard into the bed and switching their positions, "I need to–"

"Fuck me?"

Dean's spine stiffens. His cock is pressing hot and heavy into Castiel's ass, and he places his hands to Castiel's inner knees, spreading them apart on either side.

"C-Can I?" Dean asks, his heart beat picking up rapidly. Dean needs this, so absolutely fucking _bad. _He needs to find the calm in the storm, he needs to let his feelings go, needs to accept the fact that he just may want to be with Castiel for more than just a hookup.

Castiel's chest hitches, "Please, Dean."

_Holy fuck._

Dean smiles, hungrily invading Castiel's mouth again with his tongue, sucking on his bottom lip and taking it in between his teeth. There's a burning heat in his core, and he parts his lips from Castiel.

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

"Side dresser, second drawer."

Dean's eyes widen. Had he _prepared _for this? Dean shakes his head and ignores the questions going through his mind, leaning over to the side dresser and pulling out a condom and a small bottle of lube. Dean swallows, squirting a small amount of lube onto his hand; _this is it. _This is what Dean's been waiting for since the moment he got off the God forsaken airplane.

"Wait," Castiel exclaims, his hand pressing against Dean's chest, "I need to...warm up."

Dean furrows his brow, "Warm up? You mean like–"

"I haven't done this in a while."

Oh.

_Oh._

Dean sucks a breath in. _Now_ he know's what Castiel means. Dean looks at the drops of lube in his hands, and then he coats one of his fingers, placing it delicately near Castiel's hole. Castiel hisses.

"Is one finger okay?" Dean asks nervously, leaning forward a little until he had access to Castiel's neck, swirling his tongue around the prickly skin. Castiel nods, and Dean takes a breath before pushing his finger in. It's warm, and tight, and _strange, _but also _fucking amazing. _Dean's sure he groans louder than Castiel does when the base of his slick finger touches Castiel's ass.

"Oh _Dean_," Castiel moans, his hand tightening around the back of Dean's neck, crushing Dean's face into Castiel's chest. Dean slowly pulls his finger out and then hastily thrusts it back in, his movements becoming quicker and quicker each time he pushes in until one finger isn't enough, and Dean decides it's a good time to push in another finger. Castiel lets out the most delicate moan as Dean sinks his fingers inside him, slick and fast and _wanting._

Dean bites down on his tongue, the sight of Castiel's squirming movements beneath him driving him crazy. Dean thinks for a second, and wonders if Castiel will react the same way a girl would if he curls his fingers. And he does, scissoring inside Castiel for a few more moments until he crooks his fingers, and feels a small bump a little deeper inside him.

"_Fuck_!" Castiel screams, his back arching almost completely off the bed as his fingers dig into the frail skin of Dean's back, "Dean! Right there!"

The groaning in Dean's ear is getting him closer to his orgasm, the deep, gravely tone of Castiel's whimpers filling Dean's head. He adds a third finger now, following Castiel's request and crooking his fingers like he did before, finding Castiel's sweet spot every time Dean pushes his fingers back in. His slick fingers slide easily inside Castiel now, and Dean's thrusts become more rapid and eager.

Dean kisses Castiel's chest, sucking sweetly at his skin before he finds his nipple and takes it lightly between his teeth. Dean feels the man beneath him begin to tremble.

"_Nnngg_...Dean!" Castiel squirms beneath him, his nails looking for anything to dig into, and eventually find Dean's hair, "Dean, please! I-I need you."

It's hard for Dean to talk, but that was all Dean needs to hear for him to pull his fingers out and get in front of Castiel, hips pressing into Castiel's bare ass. Castiel is breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling swiftly.

"Been wantin' this so bad, Cas." Dean kisses Castiel's temple as he rolls the condom onto himself, "So fuckin' bad." He groans, pressing his chest to Castiel's, finding a rapid heart beat echo through his core, and he doesn't know whether it's his or Castiel's. Dean takes his throbbing erection into his hand, lube spreading slick around his cock as he lines it up near Castiel's entrance.

And it's almost damn near impossible to hold back the urge to shove himself in, to give Castiel everything he's got. But he relaxes, and lets himself enjoy what he's been waiting for, just rubbing his sleek cock-head against the teased hole.

"Dean, _please._" Castiel whimpers, hands gripping the bedsheets and his hips thrusting forward, "I can't wait anymore. Please." He begs, and the corner of Dean's lips curl; knowing that _this _feeling of fury and passion, is _mutual._

And that was it for Dean. He feels the fiery, fervent need for him to be inside Cas, and he pushes into Castiel's slow but hard, being engulfed by the tightness and warmth.

"Holy fucking _Christ_," Dean breathes, his breath ragged and broken by the height of pleasure, "Fuck, Cas, you're so tight."

Castiel's lips are parted when he lets out a breathless moan, clamping his fingers around Dean's hips, "Fuck me, Dean. Please fuck me,"

Dean waits until the base of his cock sinks in, tight and deep, before he begins rolling his hips, one hand gripping the top of the headboard to gain leverage. Dean pulls out slowly, in fear of coming to quickly, but all he really wants to do his screw the _shit _out of the dude. Castiel's head rolls back, exposing marked skin, purple and red from Dean, and he's squirming and spreading his legs wider.

"Is this okay?" Dean asks, quiet and soothing. He's almost a little embarrassed from asking, but he can't be too sure. Castiel smiles and nods.

"_Very_ okay," He starts, breath hitching and cracking, "Just _move_."

Finally, Dean thrusts back in and Castiel cries out, one hand tightly clamped around Dean's hip, the other held so unbearably hard onto his right shoulder. And as Dean continues to move, he realizes that _this _is _so _much better than anything he's ever felt.

Dean feels Castiel's urgency, his desire, but Dean doesn't let him. Castiel has been _torturing _him for what seems like _years, _although it's only been _days_. Castiel's hips are jutting upwards towards Dean, meeting Dean's thrusts as he goes down, slow and steady against Dean's slick cock. Dean leans down to kiss him, picking up his pace as he rolls his hips into Cas, but Castiel is so lost, so in the moment that he can hardly kiss back, and he's just letting out ragged, choking moans.

"_Yes_," Cas groans, biting his bottom lip, "Oh, _yes, _Dean. It-It's so good..._god yes_!"_  
><em>

Dean wills himself not to come. Listening to Castiel _plead_, to _beg, _to _squirm_, to _shake_ beneath him is what's Dean's been aching for, and he can't hold into his pace anymore, and he starts rolling his hips faster, the smacking sound of skin on skin echoing the room.

Castiel's legs continue to spread wider, allowing Dean to go deeper. And soon the bed is fucking _squeaking, _the top of the headboard banging slightly against the wall as Dean presses his cock inside him. Dean's arms begin to shake, and it's so painfully tantalizing to keep his orgasm in for this long, when in all truth, he could've easily come ten minutes ago.

Castiel wraps his legs around Dean's back, pressing their chests together and Dean feels the wetness of Castiel's cock trapped between him against his belly. Dean eyes him, his lips parted and swollen, trembling every time Dean pushes in, and Dean takes the opportunity, shoving his tongue between his lips. Castiel can barely stifle his moans, and he's groaning into Dean's mouth as Dean's hips pound against him.

Castiel leans back, pressing their foreheads together, "Faster, Dean. _Harder_."

Dean sucks in a breath, but follows his command, picking up his speed, and now he's fucking into him so hard he thinks they might just in fact break the bed. Dean thrusts deeper, until he hits Castiel's sweet spot again, and Castiel's back arches off the bed, whimpering.

"Right there!" Cas gasps, his hand pulling at Dean's hair, "Oh yes, _just _like that!" He cries.

Dean feels the familiar twinge in his core, "Cas, I-I'm gonna come, I-I–"

"Come for me, Dean." Castiel whispers, with that _damn _voice that's been driving Dean crazy. Dean hovers his lips over Castiel's, breathing and gasping against his lips as he uses whatever power left in his body to keep pounding into him; tight and warm, Cas clenching his muscles around Dean's cock. Castiel bucks his hips up, trying to close every inch of air between them, and Dean feels the hot, sticky mess between them, Castiel's shaking hips against his own.

"Shit," Dean starts gasping for air, "Oh, fuck, Cas. _Fuck_!" His vision starts to blur, the room is almost spinning and now he's just letting his body take over, his hips stuttering into the heat of Castiel's ass, his lungs heaving for air, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly. Dean's noises become unrecognizable, and now the only thing he manages to whimper out his Castiel's name; over and over again until it's just a broken breath for air.

Dean turns into a groaning mess, his jaw clenching, legs shaking, arms trembling. Dean's giving Castiel all he's got now, his hips smacking against the man beneath him. His cock is throbbing inside Castiel, and when Cas clenches his muscles around him, the tightness around Dean's cock increasing, Dean fucking _loses it. _Castiel attacks Dean's neck, bites and licks across his skin as Dean comes hard into his ass with thick, hot spurts.

Dean's breathing resides, until his arms decide they've had enough for the night and give out. Dean's chest falls on top of Castiel's, and he feels something sticky and hot between their chests.

_Shit._

Dean didn't even realize Cas had come already. He'd been so _lost, _so far from reality that he had almost passed out from coming so hard. Speaking of which; Dean's chest his still heaving in and out with shallow and ragged breaths, and soon, both their breathing syncs.

And as Dean lays on top of the man who had most likely just given him the best orgasm of his life, he realizes two things.

1. He just fucked the absolute _shit _out of Castiel Milton.

2. He is: _so fucking screwed._


	8. Chapter 8

**_Castiel's POV_**

* * *

><p>Freckles.<p>

All 223 of them.

It had taken him some time to count them all, and sometimes he would lose count and have to start over. But Castiel didn't mind re-counting. Not even in the slightest bit.

Not to mention it was hard to not urge himself to reach out to Dean's face while he was still sleeping and brush his thumb over his speckled cheeks.

No, it isn't that fact that Dean is so _beautiful_, or the fact that Dean looks more adorable when he's sleeping—no, it's just the fact that it's _Dean. _Dean's in front of him, just _there, _chest rising slowly, eyelashes twitching, lips parted. And there's no one in the world that Castiel would rather be with.

Castiel rubs his eyes and blinks, staring at Dean harder and debating whether this is just a dream, or it's real life. It feels hazy, vague, unclear. But when Castiel shifts slightly in the bed, he _feels _it.

The soreness, the cramps.

And he _sees _it.

The scratches, the hickies, _oh_ _god _the hickies; strategically placed all over Dean's neck and collarbone, even a few leading down his chest, and one directly next to his belly-button which makes Castiel giggle. Castiel assumes that there's _more, _but he doesn't want to risk moving the thin sheet covering Dean's junk at the moment. It's too beautiful of a sight to touch.

_No, not a dream._

Castiel runs fingers through his messy hair, still trying to process the fact that it is _real. _That all of it, is_ real. _He had slept with Dean fucking Winchester. And it was _real. __  
><em>

Well, it's not like Castiel didn't know about Dean's attraction toward him. Of course he had heard _Dean_ that one night from the other side of the wall. Castiel laughs to himself, because if Dean was trying to be quiet, he failed miserably. But of course, Dean's big-ass mouth wasn't a complete and total failure. At least Castiel discovered he wasn't alone in this whole _thing_ that him and Dean share. As if the sexual tension hadn't been bad enough, it definitely increased after that.

Playing the clueless Castiel wasn't as easy as he'd thought it would be. Walking into Dean's room the next morning pretending that he had heard nothing was one of the hardest thing's he'd ever had to do.

But no, _that _was _nothing _compared to _this_. Everything is still foggy, leaving only the marks on their skin to confirm what happened last night was real. Castiel palms his hands on his face, fingers parting and eyes peaking out slightly to look at Dean as he takes deep breaths.

Castiel's lip twitches into a smile. He _never _thought Dean would be interested back; that is was just a one-sided thing, like it usually goes. From the moment Castiel saw him at the airport, he _wanted _him. Oh _god, _he wanted him. No matter how hard he tried to push himself away, his body wouldn't let his mind win. Of course, his mind wasn't really thinking quite at all when he threw himself at Dean at the security line. What an _awful _idea to start a conversation. Of course, getting him sent to the back of the line was not in Castiel's intention at all, but he has his dick to blame for that.

But most importantly, he has _Gabe _to blame for that.

* * *

><p><em>"Okay, Cassie. Just go up to him in line and hand him the five, tell him it fell out of his back pocket." Gabe had said, handing Castiel a five dollar bill, eyes mischievously on the man waiting patiently in line.<em>

_Castiel had reluctantly taken the money, smoothing down his trench coat. "But-but, what if he never had money in his back pocket?" _

_Gabe rolled his eyes. "Oh God Almighty, just do it! Flirt it up a bit. Maybe slip in front of him in line?"_

_"What if his preference is not men?"_

_Gabe shoved his shoulder. "Bro, my _gay-dar _is going crazy. Didn't you see him check out that pilot's ass?"_

_"I'm not sure about this, Gabriel. My-my people skills," Castiel shook his head, "They're a bit rusty."_

_Gabe murmured something under his breath that Castiel couldn't hear, but Gabe's hands were quickly on Castiel's back, pushing him towards Dean's direction. _

_"Do it, Castiel!"_

_They get closer to the man in line now, so close that Castiel could see the highlights of silky blonde in his light brown hair. "Gabe!" Castiel loudly whispered, his shoes slipping and sliding across tile. _

_"Well if you're not gonna do it by yourself, you need a little _push_...literally__!" _

_Of course, a little push turned into quite a big one. So much in fact that Castiel had tripped over his own shoes, falling right on top of the one man he was mainly trying to avoid._

_Castiel keeled a little, his back stiffening when he recovered from his fall, turning around only to see Gabriel scurrying away from line. Castiel sucked in a breath, "Dammit, Gabriel." He whispered to himself. _

_He froze when the man looked up to him, green eyes beautiful yet terrifying._

_"What the hell, dude?" The man said, rubbing his face.  
><em>

_Castiel parted his mouth, but nothing came out. The guy, now seething with anger, reaches an arm out to give Castiel a little shove._

_Once again, a little push turned into a big one._

_And Castiel went tumbling down, right next to the security guard behind him._

_"Hey! What's going on here?"_

_Castiel swallowed. His mind was a total blank, face flushed and red from embarrassment. But no, it had to get worse when Castiel opened his goddamn mouth._

_"I was just in line. They called next." He said, and then immediately slammed his mouth shut.  
><em>

What the fuck, Castiel? What the fuck was that?! _He had thought, getting the urge to slam his hand on his face. So much for his attempt at flirting.  
><em>

_And that was the moment Castiel had known that the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life was going to hate him. _

_Gabe had texted him about half hour later._

_**_Sorry bro...next time. Michael will be waiting for you at baggage claim when you get out, and I'll be there soon. Gonna take Baby to Cali instead. P.s...you can keep the five. _**_

_Well, at least he got to skip the security line. And, he got five dollars._

* * *

><p>But of course, Castiel proved himself wrong, and had basically just slept with the man of his dreams. Lord knows <em>how, <em>but he did.

With a smile as wide as the sun, Castiel stands from the bed, feeling a chill run up his spine when he realizes he has no clothes on. Well, at least that's one more conformation of last night.

He tiptoes over to the bathroom, eyes never leaving the flushed body that lays in his bed. The smile on his face never leaves either.

Although, when he gets to the bathroom and looks in the mirror, that's when his smile fades.

People at his office are going to think he was _beat up, _better yet _attacked. _The bright purple and red hickey on the left side of his neck stands out quite well from his paled skin. The others aren't _as _noticeable; still noticeable, yes, but not _as noticeable. _There's a red line on his right pectoral muscle that after a while Cas concludes is a scratch mark. And there's plenty more where that came from too; another on his abdomen, and inner thigh, along with a few on his forearm that Cas remembers is from Dean digging his nails into his skin.

_Oh, Jesus. _

Last night was a rough night. Cas takes a breath, starting the shower up. He almost doesn't want to clean himself off, in fear of losing Dean's scent, his _touch. _But no, Castiel needs to shower, because he's pretty sure the dried-up white stuff on his stomach isn't frosting.

The hot water burns a little, and Cas cringes when the heat touches his newly formed marks. The water drips down his eyes, leaving bubbled water on his eyelashes. Cas runs a hand through his hair, across his arms and legs; and every movement is slow and weary. His body hasn't realized it yet. His body hasn't realized what he's feeling.

And he's confused. Happy yes, but confused. He feels like he's known Dean forever, even if it's only been days. He feels like Dean is someone important in his life, someone he has this _profound bond _to, some sort of _link. _It's exhilarating, leaving every one of Castiel's nerves on edge. But nevertheless, confusing.

All Castiel knows at the moment, is that he likes Dean Winchester. A lot.

He takes a short shower, hoping out and wrapping a towel around the points of his hips. He runs a hand over his face when he hears a soft echo.

A soft echo that gets a little louder the more Castiel draws his ears in.

And soon Castiel is frantically running on the tips of his toes out the bathroom, drops of water flying everywhere in the room to go stop his fucking _phone _from waking up sleeping beauty.

Which, thankfully, it doesn't. Castiel grabs it and runs back into the bathroom, flipping it open and holding it to his ear.

"Gabriel," Castiel murmurs quietly, his heart beat calming down a little.

_"Bro, where are you? Thought we scheduled lunch before the meeting?"_

_Shit._

Cas leans over the sink, "What time is it?"

Gabe laughs for a second, _"One?"_

Cas's eyes go wide.

_ONE? I SLEPT UNTIL ONE?_

Cas swallows, his lips parting soon after and stuttering faint words out of his mouth, "I-I seemed to have lost track of time, I-uh—"_  
><em>

_"Woah, woah, woah,"_ Gabe cuts him off, voice rough and rigid, _"Did something happen?"_

Cas doesn't answer his question. "How short can you get here?"

_"I can be there in ten."_

"Front lot. I'll be outside."

Cas hangs up quickly, dropping the towel on his hips and tip-toeing outside the bathroom again and over to the dresser. Dean hasn't moved a muscle, which makes Castiel laugh because _wow, _last night must've been one hell of an evening to make him this tired. And Castiel can't blame him. Dean _went hard._

Castiel attempts to ignore the butterflies and possibly slight boner he may have just gotten from the recollection. He pulls out a pair of briefs and a pair of black dress pants, hurdling them over himself as he keeps his eyes locked hard on Dean.

And Castiel doesn't know why he's questioning _this _at the moment, but now, Castiel is curious as to _Dean's tattoo. _Lord knows why he didn't really pay attention to it last night, but Castiel was so caught up in just the fact that it was _Dean, _that he was too busy to notice all the little details.

However this, isn't a little detail. Inked black on his left pectoral muscle, is a design Castiel had never seen before. Nevertheless, it still looks fucking hot on Dean anyways._  
><em>

The pants stick to Castiel's legs slightly, still wet from his shower, and the white dress shirt is even worse, patches of wet spots on his abdomen causing the shirt to become transparent. The tie around his neck goes on easily, and the black jacket soon follows. Castiel smooths down the lapels and quietly grabs his trench coat before running off. His hair is a _disaster_; wet and draped over his eyelashes, but also stuck up in all different directions in the back.

The hickies, Castiel decides, can be dealt with later.

Castiel smirks, hand brushing over his damp neck as he walks to the side of the bed. And its peaceful, watching Dean. It's _comfortable. _Like being curled up in blankets in mid-winter, warm mug wrapped tight in your hands, sitting by the fire as the smells of cinnamon and autumn fill the air. Like _home_.

Castiel doesn't want to leave. He can spend forever next to him, tight and heated against his body. Castiel can still feel the heat from his skin, on the tips of his fingers. And ever so slowly, Castiel reaches his hand out, his thumb skimming soft skin against Dean's cheek. And he feels the sudden urge to _cry. _It hits him out of nowhere, actually, and it's quite weird, so weird that Castiel doesn't know what to do. He's never had this _feeling _before.

Castiel retreats his thumb back, sucking in a shaken breath.

It's difficult to walk out of the bedroom, but knowing that Dean will still be within walls when he gets back is enough to give him the little push he needs to walk out. He stops at the kitchen counter, though, pen and paper in hand.

He writes for a while, soon then leaving the pad of paper in eyes view for Dean to see when he wakes up.

* * *

><p>"If you were any more purple, you'd be Barney."<p>

Castiel plays with the salt shaker on the table. He takes a moment to linger his eyes around the restaurant before he scratches the back of his neck and lets out a huff. "So, it's evident then?"

Gabe just squints his eyes at him.

Castiel nods.

"Words gonna' go 'round the office." Gabe _tsks_, and then picks up his silver fork and begins tapping it on his plate annoyingly, "Anna's gonna' find out."

Castiel rolls his eyes. _Anna _is the _least _of his concerns. Yeah yeah, she'd most likely hound him all day long and ask him questions until he implodes, but that isn't half as bad as the person he _is _worried about.

Gabe clears his throat again. "_Shitlord's_ gonna' find out."

Yeah, _that's _the problem. Michael Milton, or as Gabe likes to call him, _Shitlord_, will most definitely not approve of Castiel's marks. The second his douche of a brother sees, he's going to go yapping off to mommy. And if Naomi finds out, that won't be good. Oh, that won't be good _at all. _Especially when she finds out they're from a _guy. _

Michael's big mouth and attitude was the main reason Castiel only see's him once every six months. Well, the _real reason _he never sees Michael, is because Michael never wants to _see him. _His big mouth and attitude was a part of it, though. Castiel can understand, however, that it is a bit difficult to keep your mouth shut after you walk in on your brother having sex with another dude. But, Castiel can never understand why Michael _still _hasn't gotten over it, after ten years. Castiel was 34 for Christ sake, he'd expect that his elder brother would've sucked it up by now.

But no, of course not. Michael went blabbing to Naomi, or as Gabe likes to call her, _Satan's Mistress. _Being the overly-religious family that they are, Naomi didn't like that. Not at all. And she made that _clear. __  
><em>

Castiel bites his lip when he realizes he's thinking to much. "What do I do?" He asks Gabriel, his brother's attention directed toward the young waiter by the corner table. Castiel snaps his hand in Gabe's face, "You're drooling."

"Hm?" Gabe turns, eyes glassy and dazed.

"You should really attempt to find someone."

Gabe looks down at his uneaten steak and shakes his head. "No. I'm a one-man wolf pack. I'm goin' _Han Solo, _bro." He smirks, pulling out a lollipop from his pocket and sticking it in his mouth.

"And Sam?"

Gabe's head shoots forward, eyes and brows furrowed sharply, "What about Sam?" He says defensively.

"You told me you were interested." Castiel says, tilting his head.

"Nuh-uh." Gabriel responds quickly, a quick shake of his head, the white lollipop stick hung low out of his lips.

Castiel squints his eyes, remembering quite well what Gabe had whispered in his ear the morning that they all just-so-happened to be in Dean's hotel room:

_"Don't be surprised if the next time you see Sammy boy here, he's walking funny. And the next time I see you, you'd better be walking funny too."_

Of course, Castiel had only shaken his head at his brother's overly-cocky demeanor, but also blushed at the snarky comment about Dean. At least one of those things can be checked off the list.

"Have you given up?" Castiel remarks, and Gabriel leans back into the wooden chair, hands crossed firmly over his chest.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Gabe smirks to himself, and Castiel knows he must be coming up with one of his devious plans. One of his devious plans that will most likely end in disaster. Gabe huffs, "So anyways, Dean?"

Castiel swallows. Even just the sound of his name brings a massive swarm of butterflies. "What about him?"

"How _was _he?"

Castiel scratches his neck. It's hard to think and suddenly the air becomes a lot thicker than Castiel remembers it being. Although, it's not really hard to think of an answer, considering he has _so many. _It's just hard to express the _so many _into _very little. _

"He was..._astounding._" Castiel says slowly. It almost angers him that he didn't say more, because he can really go on forever. And not just about how Dean _was_ last night, but how he _is _in general. There's no amount of words that Castiel could use to describe him. Well, more or less, he doesn't really know _how_ to describe him, but also at the same time, he also kind'ave _does. _

"So, you're saying he's—"

"Different." Castiel interrupts with a slight nod, "He's different."

Gabe's face contorts into a confused glare. "So, is that a good thing?"

Castiel doesn't respond, instead waving his hand over to call the attention of the nearest waiter.

"Check please!" He calls, a big wide grin plastered onto his face.

* * *

><p>"You have to take my scarf, Castiel."<p>

"But it's..._sparkly_."

Anna shoves the shimmering blue scarf into Castiel's hands. "Take it!" She yells at him, her eyes penetratingly serious. Castiel reluctantly takes the scarf. At least it matches his tie.

Castiel huffs and ties it around his neck, burying the ends into his dress shirt. He can feel his cheeks turning a deep pink.

_Just remember, it could be worse._

Anna sucks in her bottom lip as she gives Castiel a once over, and Castiel feels like he's being judged by the whole world. And then there's Gabriel, leaning back with his feet propped up on the desk in Castiel's leather chair, grinning from ear to ear.

"Feet off my desk." Castiel raises his eyebrows at him, a finger pointing sturdy at his smiling face.

Gabe kicks his feet off. "A'ight boss." He chuckles, his attention reverting to the neatly organized pens on the desk, moving them out of order the way he knows will piss Castiel off.

Castiel rolls his eyes. Neither of his siblings are making things any better whatsoever. He's got Gabriel smiling like an idiot, and then there's Anna giving him the judgmental '_oh you're such a slut'_ glare. _Lord_ knows what Michael's going to say.

It's not like Castiel regrets the hickies, _god_ no, but there's not really any excuse to get him out of it when Michael see's. He can't use his sisters excuse of _"I burnt my neck using my hair straightener"_, which both parents seemed to believe only because Anna was the kiss-up of the family. And he most certainly can't use Gabriel's excuse of _"I went hiking today, it's a rash from the trees."_, which in fact never really worked on either their mother or father anyways.

So in fact, he's doomed.

"Just keep the scarf on all day, no one will see." Anna reassures him, but the way her lips are quivering makes Castiel assume otherwise.

"Won't people find it, strange, that I have this —," Castiel looks down and groans at the bedazzled scarf, " —thing on my neck?"

"They could just assume you pitch for the other team." Gabriel jokes, now crumpling up paper balls and tossing them into the trash can, resulting in a pile of paper balls around the room. Gabe looks up and winks at him.

Castiel rubs his temples, attempting to rid the headache he feels coming on. "How am I supposed to give a speech on tax funds when I look like I just let a six-year old give me a makeover?"

Anna sighs and Gabriel laughs again. Castiel knows that they can't do much to much to help anyways, but the _least _they could just tell him that it _is__n't that bad. _But just the fact that they're not even doing that reassures Castiel that it actually _is _in fact, _that bad._

Castiel shrugs. The only thing getting him through this day is what comes _after _it. Dean's the only thing making his gears click into place right now, and goddammit, he's going to get through this day and see Dean even if it kills him.

"So who are they from, anyway?"

Castiel turns to his redheaded sister, hands strategically on her hips on top of her gray blazer. Her head is tilted to the side ever so slightly, just enough to make her intimidating.

Castiel shrugs. "Uh—"

"They're from an _Abercrombie_ Model." Gabe perks up, tossing another rolled up piece of paper toward the trash and missing.

"_He's_ not an _Abercrombie _Model!" Castiel yells at him, and Gabe throws his hands up in front of his chest defensively.

Anna's mouth drops. "Wait, it's a guy?" She starts, and Castiel immediately bites on his tongue, "I thought you _promised_?"

Oh, yes. How could Castiel forget his promise to his Mother so many years ago? The one where he _promised _to stop _sinning. _The one where he swore on his _life _that he never would ever again touch another man _that way. _But, it was never really a _promise_; instead a lie.

"I wanted to get Mother off my ass." Castiel says, and Anna throws her arms up in the air.

"Oh my gosh!" She shakes her head, her wavy red hair swooping to the sides, "If _Michael _find's out!" Anna wails, and she runs over to Castiel to tuck the scarf farther into his dress shirt.

Castiel tosses her hands off, causing her to drag the scarf out of his shirt. "Anna, please!"

She backs away, her eyes red and glassy. And Castiel knows that she remembers _everything_ that had happened that day; the day their Mother discovered that Castiel had slept with another man. The day that Michel _told. _It's not like Castiel isn't scared, because he _is, _he's _terrified._ But he can't show fear to his little sister. Not again.

Anna's bottom lips begins to shake and Castiel's head bows down. "Michael will not become aware of this. I'll make it my priority." He says, clutching his sisters shoulders and pulling her into a tight hug. She's warm, and her arms wrap tightly around him.

"I don't want it to be like last time." She murmurs against Castiel's shoulders, and Castiel shuts his eyes.

Castiel pulls her back and brushes the hair away from her face, her big brown eyes so different from his, yet the same. "Me either, Anna."

"So, is this a family bonding-sesh, or what?" Gabriel remarks as he makes a disgusted choking noise in the back of his throat. Castiel looks down at Gabe, who now once again, has he feet propped up on top of Castiel's desk.

"Oh, c'mere you big teddy bear." Castiel jokes, and the face Gabriel makes is _priceless._

"Hell no!" Gabriel yells, standing up from the desk and backing against the wall, "_Cooties_."

"I can tie him down with the scarf while you hug him." Anna laughs, toying with the scarf in her hands. Gabe's eyes widen when Anna starts running towards him. Castiel laughs, reminding himself of when they were younger, with not a care in the world and not a tax-fund meeting to attend to. Castiel goes over to Anna, who now has Gabriel cornered in the back of the room against the book shelf.

Gabe rolls up into a little ball, and Castiel is laughing so hard he can feel his stomach burning. He doesn't even think much when someone knocks on the door.

"You can come in." Castiel chuckles, smoothing out his trench coat and letting Gabriel unravel out of the corner. He sticks his tongue out at Anna and Castiel before the door swings. Castiel turns to Gabe and swats his arm.

"Castiel are you ready for the – _oh my god! _What are _those_!"

It takes Castiel a good two seconds before he looses all the breath in his lungs.

He doesn't have the scarf on.

And Michael is standing right in front of him.


	9. Chapter 9

_**I apologize for having to leave this morning. _**My job can be a pain sometimes,**_ but I didn't want to wake you. **_

_**I will be back later in the day if you would like to do anything.**_

_**I had fun last night, and I hope you did too.**_

_**Hopefully we can do it again.**_

_**Here's my number...just in case.**_

_**922-0817**_

Dean can't stop smiling like an idiot. His cheeks are beginning to burn a little even, but the smile on his face refuses to die down. He sucks in his bottom lip to keep from smiling, but it doesn't work.

He backs away from the counter, eyes trailing around the room for a long while, trying to process the previous events of last night.

_I had sex with him._

Dean laughs, "I had fucking _sex_ with him." He says, hands finding messy hair and brushing through. It's extremely hard to believe, but Dean knows for a fact that it happened, "Holy _fuck_!"

Dean feels like he's glowing. He feels like he's freakin' _covered _in _glitter. _

Castiel Milton has given him a reason to be happy_. _So _fucking happy. _Dean feels like a weight from his chest has been lifted, and he feels _lighter. _He feels less alone, which is odd, because Dean has felt alone his whole life mostly. If Dean had known from the moment that dorky little freak had _accidentally_ bumped into him, that he would end up _staying _in his life, Dean would've thought himself crazy.

To say the beginning of him and Castiel's relationship had been rocky would be an understatement. Dean had wanted _nothing _to do with him in the slightest bit. No attraction, no desire, no hunger, no _want._

But the more Dean had taken the time to look at him; _really _look at him, the more he had noticed how oddly _perfect _he was. Dean had seen that Castiel had the kind of facial hair that he usually only sees in photoshopped cover magazines for men's underwear. He had noticed that Castiel's eyes were like a poet's miscellaneous metaphor-collection. That his eyes could be compared to anything blue; but of course, nothing could _truly compare _to the actual color. And he had noticed the small little things he does, like when he tilts his head a little to the side when he's intently listening to something, or the way his stupid blue tie is always backwards, or the crazy, messy hair that still drives Dean wild.

But above it all, it was when Dean had noticed that Castiel was _dauntless. _It was strange when Castiel hadn't backed away when Dean snapped at him; showed him the dangerous side. Which Dean thinks is why he actually _became_ so desirable.

Castiel is just someone who fell into his life accidentally. And he left a mark.

A mark that Dean knows will never leave. There's just no way in hell Dean will forget him. Not because he had the ability to manipulate Dean's sexual preferences a little, but because he's this weird, dorky, little guy that _changed him. _Castiel has shown him the good in people, even when Dean had believed that most people were rotten. Castiel makes him _feel _things; _different _things that he's never come across before.

Naked as he leans against the counter, Dean sucks in a breath.

_I have to tell Sam._

Dean slaps his hand on the granite. He _can't _tell Sam. Not when they're still in one of their stupid teen-drama sessions. Dean huffs when he realizes he's going to have to _talk it out. _He loves his brother to death, but Dean will never understand why Sam spontaneously grows a vagina sometimes. Nevertheless, Sam's still his brother. Dean can apologize in person like a mature adult.

Dean swallows, annoyed when he finds that his throat's a little sore. Well, actually his whole _body _is sore. But it's a _good _kind of ache. A relieving pain.

So, as Dean leans shaken elbows on the counter, he decides it's a good time to call his brother.

Or, he _hopes _it's a good time.

He scurries over to the edge of the bed, searching in the pile of discarded clothes for his pants. He eventually finds them, yanking out his phone and flipping it open to dial Sam's number. It wasn't more of making up now as it was just needing to tell Sam he_ fucked the shit out of Castiel. _

The phone rings, a lot actually, and Dean knows Sam is probably sitting on the couch and staring at the screen and debating whether to answer or not. In the long run, Sam picks up.

"Sam!" Dean shouts instantly, unable to hold in excitement any longer. Sam's silent for a while.

_"Dean, this better be important. I'm trying on my suit."_

"Me and Cas we..." Dean chokes on his words a little, "...we had sex."

Sam's silent for a _long _time now. There's rustling movement on the other line. Sam sucks in a breath.

_"Mr. Winchester, are you alright?" _Dean hears an older man's voice say, and then he hears Sam clear his throat. Dean chuckles and wishes he could see his brother's reaction right now.

_"Oh. Uh—wow, that's-that's—wow_._" _ Sam scoffs. Dean rolls his eyes. He knows that tone of voice. That's his brother's tone of: '_I'm giving you the cold-shoulder but also not trying to be a complete and total ass'_.

Dean pinches his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "What time does your uh, thingy end?"

_"About half hour." _Sam says plainly.

"Wanna' come by the hotel after? And uh—" Dean clenches his fist for what's about to come out of his mouth, "—and talk things out?"

Sam huffs a laugh. _"Sure, Dean. I'll be over as soon as I can." _He says sternly before he hangs up.

Dean holds the phone to his ear for a while even after the line goes dead. Sam doesn't hate his guts, _thank God_, but Dean's now stuck with the inevitable future of having to talk out his daddy-issues with his brother. He shrugs his shoulders, at least thankful that he'll be talking it out with someone who will kind of understand where he's coming from.

Although, Dean thinks that Sam will _never_ have to deal with coming out to John, so he doesn't _completely _understand. But he understands enough, which is enough for Dean.

With a hand on the back of his damp neck, Dean makes his way out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, grinning at the pile of clothes at the end of the bed, the rustled sheets, the bottle of lube on the floor, and the teared open condom package on the side table. Dean nods his head in satisfaction. If anything, last night was even _better _than Dean had expected it to go. Castiel was just the right amount of gentle; not too soft but soft enough. Just the right amount of rough; not too aggressive, but aggressive enough to feel the _pleasure, _the _lust, _the _desire, _the _want. _

He was and _is_ just the right amount of everything.

And oh _god, _Dean will do anything to feel it again. Dean gets a chill up his spine, remembering his kisses; the kind that girls can never get right. The tender and tantalizingly needy kisses, on his lips, his neck, his collarbone, his stomach, his—

Dean clears his throat and places a hand over his growing erection. It's awfully difficult to think of Castiel and _not _get a boner.

He starts the shower, letting the water run hot before he steps in. As cheesy as it sounds, it's a little difficult for Dean to step in at first, mainly because he doesn't want to wash away his _kisses. _Dean shakes his head and denies himself the fact that he's actually kind of _fangirling _over last night. He still feels _excitement _in his core, or some other feeling that he _thinks _is excitement, but he actually doesn't know what feeling it is.

"You're just happy, man." Dean reassures himself. He steps into the steamy shower, hot water running over his face when he rubs his eyes under the downpour, "That's it. You're just really really happy. That's _all_."

* * *

><p>"Look, Sam, I'm sorry alright? I really am it's just—" Dean sucks in a breath, "— it's just I-uh, I—ugh. Okay, maybe you just need to grow the hell up and maybe I just need to—ugh, fuck this." Dean stops talking and shakes his head at his own reflection. "Dammit, dude, if you can't talk to a damn mirror how the hell do you expect to talk to Sam?"<p>

Well, _Dean_ doesn't expect to talk to Sam, _Sam _expects Dean to talk to him. Dean would rather just sit in silence with the guy until they could both just out-bore their problems and go back to the way they normally are. Feelings are bad, dangerous; Dean would rather just keep them in than let them out. It causes less emotional stress for everyone that way. His main job and focus: take care of Sammy, don't let him take care of you.

That was what his mother had told him to do, and _god dammit_, Dean had promised he would. And he's not going to break that promise. He's not going to break his mother's dying wish. Of course, Dean had almost been forced to do that anyways, after their father had just drank himself to death every nigh after the accident, leaving 8 year-old Dean to take care of his 4 year-old brother.

Dean had taken on the mother-figure pretty much. It was always, and still _is, _about taking care of Sammy. Sam may be older now, but he's still Dean's little brother. And Dean's not going to show the one person that looks up to him his _weaknesses, _his _feelings. _

Dean knows his feelings don't matter, he's been reassured that enough by his father. So what better way to turn that around other than to pretend he doesn't _have _feelings?

"Okay," Dean nods his head, "Just say you're sorry. He'll get over it."

Dean's head snaps away from the mirror when he hears the knocking at his door. Dean leans away from the sink, clapping and then rubbing his hands together. "Alright, showtime." He mutters.

Back to his own hotel room now, Dean walks hastily to the door, fingers lagging when he reaches the knob. He swings it open, and Sam just _whips _by him, almost knocking Dean over against the wall. Dean keels back, struck by his brothers sudden entrance.

"Dude, tell me everything."

Dean stands with the door stills swung open, his head scuffed back into his neck and his eyebrows furrowed. "Huh?"

Sam makes a questionable gesture, swinging his hands out open palmed to the side. "Well, what are you waiting for? You wanna' tell me about Cas or no?"

_So much for apologizing?_

Dean parts his mouth to say something about how their last _good_bye wasn't so _good, _but he shuts his mouth instead. Dean grins, "Uh, he was uh, _fucking awesome, _dude." Dean laughs and shuts the door. And surprisingly, it's _not _awkward. Maybe Sam had already forgotten about it, thank _God. __  
><em>

"That's great, Dean." Sam nods, his smile fading suddenly. He sucks in a breath and scratches the back of his neck. "So, uh—"

_Shit. Maybe he didn't forget._

Dean feels his stomach twist, and now his mind is running different ways to apologize.

Sam looks at the ground, hair covering his eyes. "Lisa?"

_Oh shit._

"Oh, yeah. _That._" Dean sarcastically laughs and then clears his throat. He looks over to his brother, arms crossed firmly over his chest and eyebrows raised. "I don't know, Sammy. I guess I fucked it up. I mean I _think _I ended it?"

"You _think_?" Sam says deeply. Although he's serious, Dean can tell he's happy. Sam's never liked Lisa. Well, he _did. _But that was before the _incident._

Dean shrugs. "Well what do you want me to say? That I came out of the closet and happily ended it with Lisa and then me and Cas frolicked off and confessed our undying love for one another?"

Oh, if it had only been so easy.

"Well, what did _she _say?" Sam asks.

_Don't tell him._

Dean swallows. Telling Sam that Lisa said she was coming up to California would put more on his plate than he has room for. But then again, lying never got him anywhere either.

"Tell me the truth, Dean." Sam speaks up again. Dean looks up at him, hazel eyes squinted and narrow. It's like Sam knows that he's contemplating telling the truth.

_Damn it, Sam._

"Cursed me out. Said she'd deal with me when I got back."

_FUCK._

Sam nods. Dean picks at his nails, watching his brothers face morph into a hesitant glare. Dean hates lying to him. _God, _he hates it. But this isn't what his brother's supposed to be dealing with on his marriage week. He's supposed to be _happy. _And so far, Dean feels like _he's_ made it all the opposite. He's already had to deal with Dean stupid hormones and their father. He can't have this to worry about right now.

"Alright. I-I'm sorry, Dean." Sam's eyes trail down to the floor, and he takes a step closer to Dean. "Whatever happens between you and her, you know you always have a place to stay with me, alright? Ruby can suck it up for a while."

Dean grins at him. He may not always show it on the outside, but Dean's grateful when his brother's a big soft serve. "That is if I even make it out of New York _alive._"

Sam laughs, dimples burying deep into the sides of his cheeks. Dean has no idea what's going to happen with Lisa. Hell, he has no idea what's going to happen with Cas, but he't got his giant-ass, gigantor brother by his side, and that's all that matters.

Sam crosses his arms in front of his chest again. His smile fades, and now he's gritting the ends of his teeth together. "Dean?" He asks shyly, and Dean looks at him in question. "Look, dude, I'm sorry about the other day. With Dad and all. I was just—I was angry, and I had no right to snap at you like that—"

"Sam," Dean starts, holding his hand up, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I get it, alright? I'm not the talk-it-out and hug-it-out type, and I know that. But my problems are _mine. _Not yours. _Mine._" Dean says, surprised at how easily what he had just said flew out of his mouth. It w_as _his apology, clean cut and serious. And he needs Sam to know that he doesn't want him interfering with any of his own problems, in fear of making his problems _Sam's_ problems.

Sam parts his lips, and Dean can sense he wants to argue back, to tell him that he _wants _to help, but instead he shuts his mouth closed.

_Atta' boy, Sammy._

"Alright, Dean." Sam says, "But you know I'm—"

"Ah!" Dean interrupts him, holding a pointed finger in front of him, and Sam shuts up and rolls his eyes. Sam's as stubborn as mule, which makes Dean laugh because he's the exact same goddamn way. An argument between them is like a pendulum going back and forth.

Sam _tsks _and holds open palms out in front of his chest, "Okay, okay, okay, jeez!" He laughs, eyes peering down to check his watch. "Shit, I was supposed to grab a beer with Garth at nine. It's almost ten to. Gotta run, Dean. You know what time the wedding starts tomorrow, right?" Sam says, hastily making his way to the door as he talks.

"Uhhh—yeah totally." Dean nods, but then Sam looks at him with his stupid bitch-face. "Alright, no."

Sam grabs the door and swings it open, "Five is the reception, okay?" He nods swiftly, backing out of the room, "See ya' Dea—" Sam slams the door before Dean has a chance to hear the rest of what he was saying.

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okie-dokie then." He sucks in a breath, sitting on the edge of the bed and running fingers over his damp forehead. Okay, so Sam isn't mad anymore. Dean can check that off his list. The apology wasn't too bad, thank _God. _Dean's always been grateful for how quickly the two of them could manage to play it cool with each other, even if there were grudges being held.

All he has to do is get through the wedding. Then he just has Friday to relax. Thanks to that one faithful day in the broken elevator, Dean has one free complimentary day at the hotel. The whole day, he can just _relax_.

With _Cas._

"Shit." Dean mutters to himself, fingers rubbing tired eyes. He only has basically _one _more day with him. _One. __  
><em>

Dean suddenly gets the feeling like he just got punched in the gut. _One _fucking day. That's _it. _And then he's _gone. _

Dean shakes his head. Just like all good things in his life, it has to be cut short. And maybe it's for the better, he thinks, because he knows he probably would've just fucked it up anyways. Just like he always does with ever God forsaken thing that he cares about. And he knows he doesn't deserve him. Castiel is too good for him, and Dean knows that. There's no question about it._  
><em>

So maybe it's for the better.

He will just go home on Saturday, deal with Lisa's wrath, whether it be here or in New York. He'll continue on with his life, like it has been for the past 30 years. And there't nothing he can do about it.

But Dean wants to do something about it. He wants to do something _so bad. _He wants_ this_; this being, whatever he has with Cas. As long as Dean can see him, he'll take whatever he can get. Friends, friends with benefits, even arch-enemies for Christ sake. Whatever it is, he just wants to stay with him.

And he can't. And it's _killing him. _

But Dean can live in the moment, for just a few more times. So with that, he reaches for the phone in his pocket, and dials the number that he most recently programmed into his phone.

It rings in his ear a few times. And then he hears an _echo. _A sharper ring, a _muffled _one. Dean takes the phone away from his ear and listens, and then realizes there's a phone ringing.

Right outside his door.

_Cas?_

Dean keeps the phone in his hand and listens to the hum on the other line, also listening intently to the blaring noise outside his door. He slowly opens the door, heart beating the whole time.

Castiel stands there, and when his eyes meet Dean's, he presses the 'decline' button on the touch screen of his phone. Dean swallows. Castiel looks _angry. _Dean can't imagine why, but he hopes _he's _not the reason.

Castiel's eyes are squinted and glassed, red veins peeking out from the edges. Brows furrows and deep, nose scrunched ever so slightly, almost as if he's about to _growl. _His jaw is sternly and clearly flexed, and he looks like he's sucking in a breath by the way his collar bones push sharply out of his skin.

And oh _God._

Dean makes a choked sound in the back of his throat when he sees the purple marks on his neck.

Dean parts his lips and hovers for a few seconds. "Uh, Cas?"

Castiel grabs the collar of Dean's light blue henley-shirt, shoving him hard back into the room and pressing him tight against the yellow hotel wall, kicking the door closed behind him. And then he just _kisses _him. Castiel kisses the _fucking shit _out of him.

It's so quick and needy, making Dean drop the phone out of his hand. Castiel presses into him more, teeth biting _hard _against Dean's bottom lip, enough that Dean thinks he might've actually drawn blood. Still having Dean pressed against the wall, Castiel removes his trench-coat and suit jacket, spiking them to the ground without ever having to remove his lips from Dean's. Cas is stronger than Dean had ever assumed, arms and calloused fingers clamped and pressing him tightly to the wall.

Next comes Castiel's white dress shirt — which he's actually _tearing _off, buttons flying away in the midst of the action. After a portion of Castiel's chest is exposed, the shirt is still on but he's riding his hands under and across Dean's abdomen, fingers exploring and _scraping _across tender skin. It's rough at _hot as fuck_, but something's wrong. Something is _so _very wrong with him, and Dean knows it.

Dean hands finds Castiel's forearms, gripping them tightly and pressing him back until Castiel is _forced_ off.

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asks, panting and out of breath. Castiel's eyelashes twitch before he furrows his brow and tries to come out of Dean's grip. Dean holds him tighter.

"Nothing, Dean." Castiel hisses, "I want you." He says, his eyes softening a little, blue irises being overtaken by dilated pupils. Castiel's tongue swipes across his bottom lip, "I just want you so bad."

Dean nods, "I-I want you too." He murmurs, hands releasing Castiel's arms, allowing him to melt back against him. It's a little more passionate this time, the way Castiel is slower when he stands to meet Dean's lips again, tongue sliding against his lips and forcing Dean's mouth to open.

Dean knows Castiel is lying. He can see right through his eyes; beautiful, but _hiding. _Castiel digs his thigh up against Dean's cock, and Dean can't help but lose focus for a second. Dean knows he'll never get tired of kissing Castiel, will never get tired of the way he tastes, of the way he smells. It's _intoxicating. __  
><em>

Dean's hands find Castiel's hips, rutting his body closer until he can feel Castiel's hardness pressing into his own. Dean finds Castiel's ass, grabbing it with his hands and rutting him up against his hips, his body desperate for friction.

Castiel's fingers are digging hard into Dean's shoulders, scraping and tearing at anything his fingers find. Castiel's tongue twists around Dean's, urgently, until he bites down onto Dean's bottom lip and then sucks it into his mouth. Dean's so happy he can finally kiss him, can finally breathe him in and taste him, but Dean can't seem to shake the feeling away that Castiel is not as okay as he says he is.

His kisses are fervent, and _nothing _like they were last night. He's going too _fast. _

"Dean," Castiel whimpers against Dean's mouth gently. His fingers act different then his mouth, quicker and more urgent, going to Dean's jeans and unbuttoning them hastily, "Fuck me, _please_. Just fuck me."

Dean stares down at him in the dimly lit light of the room, highlighted shadows making all the colors of blue in his eyes fade into one. Dean watches his eyes and face almost sink into hidden emotion. Castiel charges forward again, eyes planted on Dean's lips. Dean stops him, hands pressed softly but firmly against his chest. Yeah, something definitely isn't right.

"Castiel," Dean says, moving his hands to the outer parts of his arms and squeezing them gently, "What happened?"

Castiel swallows, fingers lightly pressed onto Dean's chest. And Dean can see it; the uneasiness in his eyes, the way his eyelids creep ever so slightly over the blue. His eyes fall away from Dean's allowing himself to look anywhere but at Dean's face. Castiel's lips part suddenly, hesitating and twitching before he licks his lips and takes a breath.

"My brother," Castiel starts, swallowing down a gulp again. Dean holds his shoulders tighter, " He saw my—" Cas stops talking and gestures to the mark on his neck. Dean feels his throat tighten.

"Okay," Dean nods, urging him to go on. He actually really doesn't wan't Castiel to continue, but for some reason he can't stop. He feels the compelling need to help him, do whatever it takes to make it better.

Castiel's breath hitches. "Im afraid he's going to inform my mother."

Dean's thumbs circle shapes on Castiel's arms. He grins, "Well I mean if you're mom's gonna' go ape shit on your ass about it, then—"

"No," Castiel cuts him off harshly, fingers coiling into Dean's shirt, "You don't understand. We're a very religious family. She won't allow me to be with men. Naomi she-she's _strict_."

_Strict._

Dean knows strict. He grew up with John for Christ sake. He knows what it's like to feel like you don't have a say, he knows what it feels like to feel powerless. He knows _exactly _what it's like to feel _worthless. _But for some reason, he can't shake the feeling that this type of _strict _is different.

"What kind of strict?" Dean asks, and Castiel looks down at the ground and goes into space, a frozen emotion stuck onto his face. Castiel doesn't answer, instead keeps looking at the ground. Dean shakes his arms a little, "Cas, what kid of strict?" He asks again.

"_Painfully_ strict."

Dean's chest goes hollow. _Painfully strict._ At first, Dean had thought that Cas was just trying to emphasize his point. But then he gets it. He _really _gets it, and never before in his life has Dean ever felt this compassionate, so awful and sympathetic._  
><em>

"She..." Dean swallows and tries to speak but it's almost impossible by the look on Castiel's face. "She—"

_Beat you. _

Dean can't even push the words out of him. John has cursed, he's spit, he's thrown and yelled, but _never, __never once, _has John struck him. And suddenly it's as if Dean _doesn't _know strict at all. He feels Castiel's arms begin to tremble a little, and all Dean wants to do is _touch _him; to rub his thumb against his cheek and to run his hand up the curve of his back, to hook his hand around the back of his neck and pull him in tight. But his fingers are stuck, glued and frozen against Castiel's arms.

"She assumed that I would be disciplined. Brainwashed. That maybe I would stop liking men." Castiel shrugs, head shaking ever so slightly, "But, I can't seem to."

Dean parts his mouth, "Who you're attracted to isn't your fault. You're allowed to love whoever the hell you want to love." He says sternly. Castiel's eyes find his again, _finally_, glassy and red. And Castiel just lets out the smallest of smiles, barely a curve in his lips. His eyes lit up, contorting into somewhat of a comforted demeanor.

"He didn't know it was with me, though, right? He just saw the mark?" Dean asks cautiously.

Castiel becomes nervous again. "At first yes. I wasn't going to say anything. Well, actually I _couldn't_ say anything. It was—" Castiel shakes his head and shuts his eyes, "—my sister, Anna. It was an accident. She hadn't meant to but—"

Dean shushes him, "It's alright, Cas. Anyone comes after you, I'm not gonna' let 'em touch you. I won't let it happen."

And then Castiel smiles again. The same goddamn smile that he had done the first time Dean had ever seen him smile. Ever so slightly, small but meaningful, smallest dimples burying in the stubble coated cheeks. And Dean isn't going to let him go. He can't let him go on Saturday. It's just not something that Dean's ready for; to lose him. Dean wanted to keep him at arms length, to avoid getting hurt again. But Dean's going to take the chance anyways. _God dammit_, he's going to take the chance.

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel whispers so quietly it's barely audible, but Dean watches his lips move and understands what he's saying.

Dean's fingers finally decide to uncurl from Castiel's arms, moving from the muscled skin to the back of his neck. With one hand on the back of Castiel's head, and one at the nape of his neck, Dean pulls him in tight, letting Castiel bury his face into the crook of Dean's neck. And it's really strange, the way their holding each other. As if the person would vanish if the other doesn't hold on tight enough.

Dean buries his nose into Castiel's hair; mint and honey, just like he remembers on the plane when Castiel had his shoulder crooked into Dean's neck just like he has now. But it's so much different than last time. He's warm, hands hooked around Dean's back and pulling him so close there's not an inch of space between them. Dean knows that after this they wont be able to return to their casual interactions. Or, _he _wont.

This was a whole new level of something — or at least, it is to Dean. If his father had _ever _done anything like that to him, he'd keep it so far buried down it would be coming out of his ass. He wouldn't tell a damn soul if his life depended on it. But for Castiel to trust him with it, for Castiel to trust Dean to _protect _him. It's all so _special _to Dean.

Dean doesn't want him to be alone. He needs to be there to _protect _him, even if he doesn't need to be protected. It's who Dean is.

"Cas," Dean says, his voice muffled, "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

Castiel retreats his head back, "Yes, I have a meeting at two."

Dean brushes the back of his head, massaging fingers into the back of his neck. He smirks, "Two, huh? Yeah, you can make it."

"Make it to what?"

Dean smiles wider. "Sam's wedding. You're coming."

Castiel unhooks his arm from Dean's back and placed them flat on Dean's chest. He shakes his head but grins. "No, Dean. I-I couldn't impose. I'm not—"

"Ah, ah, ah." Dean slides out from Castiel's grasp and shakes his head, waving a pointed finger at him. Castiel's eyes follow him to the bed as Dean pulls his shirt over his head, pants and boxer briefs sliding off easily too. Castiel's eyes widen and Dean shrugs, "I need a date anyway." He says, pulling back the cream colored covers and shimmying over to the other side of the bed. He pats the mattress and looks at Cas.

Dean winks. "So you wanna' come cuddle, or what?"

Castiel stands there, hair a disheveled mess, shirt unbuttoned and tie askew. He squints his eyes and smirks, pulling off the tie and tossing it on the ground. Dean can't help but stare at him when his shirt comes next. And even Cas is messing around a little bit, slowly sliding the fabric across his body like a professional stripper.

Dean starts humming the tune of "Pour Some Sugar On Me". _  
><em>

Castiel smiles widely when his pants and underwear comes off, and he crawls under the covers next to Dean, letting his head rest back into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean wraps the sheet around them both, warmth enclosing them as Castiel presses against Dean's side. It's relaxing; the hot breath on Dean's neck, sometimes even a tender kiss followed by a soft sigh.

Dean turns his head toward him, allowing his lips to skim against Castiel's forehead. They lay like that until Dean's sure Castiel is asleep. And when he hears the muffled snore, Dean laughs and finally shuts his eyes.

"Yeah, there's no way I'm letting you go." Dean whispers against his forehead, fingers rubbing shapes into frail and tender skin. Dean had never thought he'd see Castiel like this. It's like he's seeing him different, in such a way that even the slightest glance of his eyes will make Dean's heart skip. He knows it's bad to get this close, _Christ, _he know's it's bad to get close _at all. _But Castiel _does _things to him, and Dean can't _help _it.

But now that he's finally here, he doesn't want it to end.

He doesn't want to shut his eyes, because the sooner he falls asleep, the sooner this moment will end. So Dean lies awake awhile, listening to Castiel's soft breaths, watching his eyelashes and fingers twitch, watching him dream.

He thinks about the wedding, of how wonderful it'll be to watch his brother get married. Yeah yeah, as much as him and Ruby bitch, Sam must love her for a reason. He thinks about seeing Bobby, seeing Karen. Watching Karen roll her eyes at one of Bobby's cheap jokes. And he's starting to fall asleep, thinking of how wonderful it will be.

How absolutely fucking _wonderful_ it'll be to show up with the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty around his arm. To finally be able to call him his _date. _To show up with Castiel Milton in public, not having to hide his feelings

But then his eyes snap open.

Because John will be there.

And _he_ won't like seeing the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty around his arm.


	10. Chapter 10

**_3:35 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:_**

**_where are u? U need to be here...it's ur job. My best man's not gonna bail on me is he?_**

**_3:37 PM: outgoing text message to: Sam:_**

**_Bobby would have my ass if I bailed. Princess is getting ready–Be there asap_**

**_3:38 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:_**

**_u invited Cas? ...Have u told him?_**

**_3:42 PM: outgoing text message to: Sam:_**

**_About?_**

**_3:44: incoming text message from: Sam:_**

**_Dad._**

"I'm ready."

Dean's head swipes to the bathroom door. His eyes go wide, trailing down Castiel's body, decked out in his almost usual attire; everything _but _the trench coat, and his dress jacket is buttoned. Hair combed neatly now instead of messy, which almost makes Dean a little sad, but he had to do the same with his anyways. The stubble on his cheeks are gone and shaved, exposing a sharp cut jawline. Castiel smiles when he notices Dean is checking him out.

Red hair swoops out from behind him, "He should be all set." A high toned voice says.

"Thanks, Anna." Castiel turns to smile at her, and then places fingers gently on his neck. She swats his hand away.

"Don't touch!" Anna yelps, "You'll smudge the makeup."

Castiel rolls his eyes and shrugs. But Dean has to admit, Anna did a _fine ass _job. You'd have to be an inch away from Castiel's face to even see a slight discoloration in Castiel's neck. From where Dean's standing, he doesn't even see anything but skin. Makeup really _does_ do wonders. Luckily for Dean, most of his marks are covered by clothes, with only maybe one or two faintly outlined spots that you'd have to be staring directly at to really notice.

Anna had even touched up the edges of Dean's eye from the bar fight. Of course, now the skin is just more of a faint yellow-ish green instead of a purple, but a little coverage never hurt. Thankfully the little cut above Dean's eyebrow blends into the hair, making it almost impossible to notice.

Castiel walks over to him and adjusts Dean's tie, tightening the knot at the top. Dean watches his long, tender fingers brush against his neck a little. His eyes gaze to his lips, crooked to the side and lower lip sucked in, nose scrunched in the slightest bit as his eyes focus to adjust Dean's tie properly.

Needless to say, Castiel looks just as stunning as he usually does. Blue eyes look up to meet his, "Ready?"

_Not really._

Dean nods anyways. Castiel gives Dean's chest a little pat, moving then to his sister and giving her a warm hug. She wraps her arms around him, "Bring me home some cake." She jokes. Castiel smiles warmly at her.

"Thanks Anna, for uh—" Dean motions to Castiel's neck and his face.

Anna grins. "Of course, Dean. It was nice meeting you." She smiles, but Dean can still see _worry _in her eyes. Dean tenses a little.

Castiel nods and smiles at her one more time, and then he's leading Dean out the door. The start down the hallway, Castiel leading frantic and quick. The little smile on his face seems to stay put. He's excited, Dean can tell.

Dean wonders if now is a good time to tell him.

His phone vibrates again.

**_3:59 PM: incoming text message from: Sam:_**

**_?_**

Dean sucks in a breath,"Hey, Cas—"**_  
><em>**

"Dean," Castiel turns around and smiles at him, "I'm really happy you invited me to this. I've been interested in formally meeting your brother. And I love cake."

_Shit._

Dean feels his throat tighten a little. He tries to open his mouth, but his lips won't seem to tear apart. He rolls the corner of his lips up instead and exchanged Castiel a small smile.

It's not like Dean regrets inviting him. _God _no. He wants Castiel to get his mind to ease, to let him forget about Michael, about his Mom. Dean wants Cas to have a good time, with _him. _And Dean wants to have a good time with _Cas. _God dammit he's going to have a good fucking time with Castiel even if it kills him. He's using his time like these last two days with Castiel are his last two days _alive. _

So yeah, Dean doesn't regret inviting him in the slightest bit. He just regrets his _father._

Okay, all Dean has to do is keep away from John. That's it; simple and easy. Just _stay away. _Besides, John can't be _that _stupid to start a scene in the middle of his son's wedding. John will most likely just avoid Dean like he has been for the past few years anyway.

And anyways, as long as Castiel is by Dean's side the whole time, nothing's going to happen to him. And Dean wont let anything happen to him either way.

_What are you worrying about, dude? Chill out._

Somehow Dean had managed to leave the hotel without knowledge of ever stepping out, and now he's being led into the hotel parking lot. Dean can see the shiny, sleek exterior of back of the car sticking out of one of the spaces. At least they'll make an appearance with the car.

"You wanna' drive?"

Dean's head whips to Cas, "_What_?"

Castiel holds the keys up to Dean, "Here." He grins, "You know the address anyways."

"Dude, _hell yes_!" Dean yells, snatching the keys from Castiel's hand. Dean eagerly slips into the drivers side, Castiel soon follows into the passengers seat with a grin on his face.

"Okay, so you know how to drive st—"

Dean shift the gears into reverse and steps on the pedal, sending the two of them flying forward, "Oh my god, this is friggin' _awesome._" Dean says. It reminds him of his childhood in a weird sense, when he still had his mustang. It gave him a sense of comfort, a sense of home-like feeling.

Once Dean pulls out of the lot and begins to drive, Castiel clears his throat, "So how long is the drive?"

"'Bout ten minutes." Dean smirks, hands tightly gripped around the wheel. He glances at Castiel for a second, and he seems _blank_; staring straight out into the window, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes wandering aimlessly.

"Well don't look too excited," Dean jokes, smiling a little at Cas. Cas doesn't look back and Dean's eyes flick from the road to his eyes, "Somethin' on your mind?" He says, reverting his attention back to the window.

"No," Castiel breathes.

_Lie._

"So who will I have the pleasure of meeting while I'm there?" Castiel continues. He takes a deep breath, hand smoothing across his face. Dean deepens his stare on the road. Castiel would be #1 in the class of bad acting. Dean wants to ask about it more, but it's not his place to snoop.

"My uncle, Bobby," Dean huffs a laugh, "Don't let him intimidate you. Iron on the outside and fluff on the inside. His wife Karen keeps him in line. My cousins—Meg and Charlie, they'll be there too. Charlie you'll love, Meg maybe not so much."

Castiel tilts his head, "Why not?"

"Sammy and I used to call her _Little Demon_," Dean smiles, "She was always the one to knock over the vase and blame it on Sammy or I. Fucker always got away with it too."

"Sound's like Gabriel," Castiel huffs with a laugh, "He was always, uh, I don't know—the _trickster _of the family, you might say."

"Now that sounded like it definitely has a story behind it."

Castiel pauses for a second and shakes his head at his feet. Dean looks over to see him grinning to himself, "One time, a really long time ago, when I was still in junior high—" Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs, "—Gabriel had woken me up, screaming at me that I was late for school. Of course, the student that I was, would rather be skinned alive than be tardy. Got up, got dressed, ran to school. Turns out it was 6 A.M. on a _Saturday_. And by the time I got back, Gabe had locked me out of the house. Waking my family up at 6 A.M. by ringing the doorbell was not fun for anyone _but _Gabriel."

Dean lets out a harmonious laugh, "Oh I would've paid to see that."

"It wasn't funny, Dean." Castiel defends, "It was the middle of November. My nose was growing icicles."

Dean can't help but laugh again, glancing at Castiel with gentle mockery, "Sound's like Gabriel's a _little demon_ too, huh?" He grins to Cas, who's already staring at him with a look that Dean knows is one where Castiel is trying to look annoyed, but also that Castiel can't help the small smile that spreads across his face.

"Little demon," Castiel repeats, "What does that make _me_, then?"

"A dorky angel," Dean responds quickly, hand finding Castiel's knee and gripping it, rubbing his thumb against clothed skin.

_My dorky angel. _

Castiel's hand slides over Dean's, a sweaty palm wrapping around boney knuckles. And then Castiel threads fingers in between Dean's, his palm pressed tight against the back of Dean's.

Dean's always had a problem with holding hands. Always thought it was _un-manly_. But no matter how hard he tells himself to pull his hand away, his body refuses to listen. And it just felt _safer. _Dean knew that _he _felt safer when Castiel was with him, _touching_ him, because that's how he knew _Castiel _was safe.

So that's how Dean's hand stayed for the remainder of the car ride.

But all Dean can think about the rest of the way is _John. _What he's going to _do _when he sees Castiel. What he's going to _say. _Hell, John can say whatever the fuck he wants to Dean, but if he _dares _to point one of his fingers at Castiel—Dean's going to _lose it. _

They finally pull into the long stretch of road, cars lined up on the side and small white tent in the distance. Dean pulls the keys out of the ignition and stares in front of him for a moment.

Castiel is the first to pull his hand away.

But Dean stops him.

"Cas, I need to tell you something." Dean blurts out uncontrollably. It's been in the back of his mind most of the ride, and something had just kicked it to the front without his consent. His throat goes dry.

Castiel loosens the tie on his neck a little, tilting his head up, he looks seriously at Dean. "Y-Yes. Of course, Dean."

Cas has the right to know. He _deserves _to know. Their hands only come apart when Dean unbuckles his seat belt and adjusts his body towards Cas. He can tell by the look on Castiel's face that he most likely thinks he's in trouble.

Dean finds Castiel's hand again, this time placing _his _hand on top. "You're not in trouble," Dean smiles slightly, and he sees Castiel's chest deflate as if he had been holding his breath.

"I can sense it's not good news, though."

Dean bites down on his bottom lip and sucks in a breath. He doesn't want to tell him. He doesn't want him to worry. But he has to _warn_ him.

"My-my dad, um, John, he's going to be there." Dean starts, and Castiel's eyebrows raise and urge him to go on. "I just—I need you to stay with me at all times, okay? My dad's not one to mess with, alright? Just stay with me."

Castiel's face changes from nervous to _blank_. He nods, eyes flicking back and forth between Dean's. Dean can sense he wants to ask _why_, but he knows that Castiel is smarter than that, which is another reason why Dean can't seem to want to leave.

Dean finally gets the willpower to let go of Castiel's hand and get out of the car, standing and brushing down his suit jacket and pants. Cool air blows across his face and it almost felt like he was sticking his head out of a moving car.

Castiel walks over to him and adjusts his red tie. He's calm. He's content. And it makes Dean feel _that _much better.

The gravel dirt road towards the big white tent seems to stretch forever. The wedding starts in forty-five minutes, which Dean concludes gives them enough time to maybe meander about for a while and introduce Castiel to family. Then all they have to do is sit through the ceremony at five, and then maybe have a piece of cake and go back to the hotel afterwards.

Castiel nudges Dean's arm. "Worry is an ugly face on you."

Dean glances to Castiel who's smirking knowingly in front of him. "I'm not worried."

"Dean, stop worrying for _yourself_. Wedding's are supposed to be fun."

_I'm not worrying for me, I'm worrying for you._

Dean just doesn't want to see the look on his face, he doesn't want Castiel to feel the same way he did when John lashed out on him. He doesn't want Castiel to feel _embarrassed _for who he is. He doesn't want Castiel to hear that being gay is _wrong_ from someone else; in fear that it may remind him of his Mother.

_Inviting him to this was the worst idea you've ever had, Winchester._

It's silent between them as they both walk towards the tent, the sound of laughter and chatter getting louder. Dean groans in the back of his throat.

"I hate talking to people." Dean murmurs under his breath. Castiel laughs shortly after.

"Just smile and pretend your listening." Castiel responds quickly.

Dean cringes when he's able to start making out recognizable faces. He exhales sharply, "Is that what you do?"

"Only when I'm talking to you." Castiel hums back to him, flicking his eyebrows up. Dean rolls his eyes.

The front of the tent is guarded by a short-ish and chubby man, only little shorter than Dean, and he's scribbling over a clipboard with sun glasses on his face. Lose the suit and glasses and he's be right up creepy-biker-guy alley. God knows why he has the sunglasses on considering it's 4:15 P.M. in the beginning of September and the sun isn't even pointed towards him.

Dean leans over next to Castiel's ear, "I didn't know the secret service would be here." He chirps, and Cas nudges his shoulder and smiles brightly at the man in front of them.

"Name." The guard states clearly, head tilting up to Cas, lips pursed. Neither of them can see his eyes, but they somehow beat down on the two of them harshly.

Castiel hesitates to answer. "Oh I'm not—"

"Dean Winchester." Dean interrupts, "You know, _The _Dean Winchester. Model, brother, _Best Man_."

The guy's facial expression doesn't change. If any, it goes more serious. "Oh, you mean _The_ Dean Winchester that was supposed to show up two hours ago?"

Castiel chuckles in the back of his throat.

Dean grinds his teeth and takes a step closer to the man. He holds a pointed finger up towards his face, "You know, just because you have sunglasses doesn't mean you—"

"Dean! Cas!" A voice interrupts them. Dean's head snaps to the inside of the tent, and Sam's rushing towards them. Sam grins and places a hand on the guards shoulder, "It's alright, Cliff. Let 'em in."

The guard, which now has a name, nods his head and glances back and forth between Dean and Castiel again, "Let me know if there's any problems with these two," He starts, pinching his glasses and bringing them to the end of his nose, "Especially pretty-boy over here." Cliff nods his head at Dean.

"Yeah—leaving now." Dean sarcastically smiles at him and drags Castiel's arm inside the tent. Sam cuts in between them, hands falling on opposite ends of their shoulders. He's dressed up, black suit with a red tie, just like Dean.

"Glad you guys are finally here. Was starting to worry you two wouldn't make it out of the car," Sam jokes, a sly wink towards Dean. Dean rolls his eyes again. He's been here five minutes and he's already been mocked more than once. Dean doesn't even dare to look over and see how red Castiel's face is. _  
><em>

Sam walks them through the tent, arms still wrapped around their shoulders. Dean takes a moment to wander his eyes around. The tent stretches far on each side, tables draped in white tablecloths lined up in neat rows, each with a white and red rose bouquet in the middle. The tables circle around a clear, neatly trimmed patch of grass in the form of a stage-like area, and in front of that is the long head table.

Dean's eyes gloom across a sea of familiar faces, but he has yet to see John. Sam keeps leads them to a small opening in back of the tent next to the head table, outside again and to where Dean can finally see the sun begin to set over the horizon of long grass field. Each white chair lined perfectly in rows, surrounding the long white stretch of sheet in the middle aisle. And there's even _Goddamn rose petals _scattered across the aisle way. The wedding canopy is white too, red flowers vined into the braided sides.

"Oh boy, Sammy, she's got you whipped." Dean pats his brother on the back. Sam huffs at him.

"I think it's lovely, Sam." Castiel corrects, eyes glued to the way the sun stretches across the canopy, giving it an orange glow.

Sam glances with a bitch-face at Dean. "Cas likes it." He states.

"Sam?" A voice comes from behind them, and they all turn around to see a blonde woman's head peeking through the tent entrance, "There's been a problem."

Sam clears his throat, his happy and pleasant demeanor fading into seriousness. "Shit." He mutters under his breath, "'Scuse me, guys."

Dean lets him pass_. _He watches Sam leave hesitantly, "Probably got the wrong flavor of cake," Dean jokes to Cas. Cas doesn't respond. Dean turns to face Castiel now, his eyes still unable to glance away from the scene in front of him. He's looking at the canopy like it's an unspoken memory.

Dean flicks his eyes from Cas to the canopy, "Cas, you okay?"

"Do you ever wonder what it's like to be under there?" Castiel answers quickly, finally drawing his attention to Dean. The sun accents against his eyes, bringing out the darker blue ring circled around the lighter iris. They're almost a little cold, even though the sun beams down on them.

Dean faces the canopy, the roses decorated on the sides. He doesn't have an answer. Mainly because up until then, he _hadn't _ever thought about it.

"I imagine it being terrifying." Castiel says again, "Making a promise like that. A promise to stay."

_A promise to stay._

Dean doesn't really quite know what Castiel means by that. Castiel looks back to the canopy and pouts his lips a little.

He's keeping something in. Dean knows it now; that there's something Castiel isn't telling him. He's seen it from the moment Castiel had run away in the elevator that one night. Castiel's mixed emotions are confusing, yes, but it's like Dean can almost read them.

"Dean?"

Dean's gaze snaps from Castiel and he turns around, now facing his brother peeking out from the entrance to the tent. Sam motions for him to come.

"Cas, I'll be right back." Dean says, but Castiel doesn't look to him as he's leaving, or even respond.

Dean hastily runs to his brother, "What's the sitch?"

Sam scratches the back of his head, "It's Adam, he can't make it."

"What?" Dean spits, "Great, what pit did he fall into now?"

"_Says_ he's in traffic," Sam gestures quotations with his hands, "We're one groomsmen short now, so—" Sam cuts himself off and his lips form into a mischievous smile.

_Cas._

"You want Cas to be the backup?" Dean raises his eyebrows in question.

"Well not _just _that..." Sam trails off. His eyebrows pyramid at the top, and Dean knows he's about to hear one of his God forsaken crazy ideas, "...I was thinking you could walk _him_ down the isle, instead of Charlie."

Yep, there it is.

"_What_?!" Dean's eyes widen so much he actually thinks his yes might pop out of his head. Sam shrugs with a laugh.

Sam smirks at him, "Charlie wanted to walk Gilda anyways! It turns out perfect since Adam was supposed to walk Gilda down!"

"Sam..." Dean shakes his head. He feels _strange _doing that. It feels _nerve racking. _In all truth, he's more than happy to walk Castiel down, but he's just _nervous _for it...and he doesn't know why.

"Dean, please." Sam shakes both Dean's shoulders, "You know you want to, man."

"Fine." Dean groans, clearing his throat, "But he doesn't even have a red tie."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe Kevin had an extra red tie. Who the hell brings two ties?"<p>

Castiel glances at him and smiles, wrapping his arm tighter around Dean's. Dean faces the the aisle from the tent, looking over the heads of all the people sitting, _waiting, _for them to come out.

He can't believe he's doing this. He can't believe he's walking Castiel fucking Milton down the Goddamn isle. He can't _fucking _believe he's not up there already with Sam like he _fucking should be. _In a traditional wedding, Dean would already be up there, and he wouldn't have to stand where he is with his heart beating so hard against his ribs he thinks Castiel may hear it. But no, Sam had to insist on having _all _the bridesmaids and groomsmen enter.

So as Dean sits there, eyes shut, Castiel's arm hooked with his, he waits.

Someone hooks their arms around his waist.

"Dean!"

Dean's head turns, and he instantly grins at the smiling redhead, "Hey, Charlie, how you been, sweetheart?" He pulls her into a side hug with his free arm. She looks gorgeous, as usual, pixie cut gelled perfectly into place, red silk dress bringing out the amber in her eyes.

"Forget me," Charlie shakes her head, "Please _do_ tell me about this man that is clutching so tightly around your arm." She giggles. Dean sucks in a breath and looks to Cas, who's looking up at him in question.

"This is Cas," Dean starts, hesitating, "He's uh, he's my-my uh—"

_HE'S WHAT, DEAN? WHAT IS HE?_

"I'm his date," Castiel picks up on Dean's stutter and sticks his free hand out to shake Charlie's.

_Why didn't you say that? Idiot._

Well, maybe he didn't say it because he thinks that Cas is more than a date. Which doesn't make his heart beat any slower at all.

Charlie smiles by rolling her lips in, "Ah." She grins at Dean and then exchanges a wide smile for Cas. It's like Dean and Charlie can read each others minds.

Charlie winks at him. _Date, huh? _

Dean glares back. _Shut up._

Charlie retreats her hand back suddenly when the sound of music begins to play, and she gasps. "Gilda, get over here!"

A girl with blonde hair comes up to him and begins to push him out of the tent. That's when Dean feels like he's going to throw up. He doesn't know why the _hell _he's so nervous. But then he's struck with the idea that it's all too _real. _Being here with Cas, being next to him, holding onto him, walking him down the isle, Castiel all dressed up and stunning, here with _Dean. _

And he feels the pressure easing. Because it's _Cas. _Because he'd never thought he'd be here next to him, with his dorky little angel, being at Sam's wedding; something that's so important to Dean. He'd never thought he'd get so lucky, never thought he _deserved _to be so lucky as to just _touch _Cas. And it's like he's not even nervous anymore; he's _happy. _

He's so _fucking _happy. The happiest he'd ever been in so long.

And then he's walking.

And he doesn't even really realize there are people around him. Because all he really see's is Castiel. Castiel's walking forward, eyes set straight in front of him, smallest smile on his face, enough for dimples to just peek through the skin. The sun hits him like a flower petal falling into a puddle; soft, light, the sun soaking into his eyes just as the water would soak into the petal. And his eyes drown in the light, the orange and pink of the sunset against the blue, like crystal crimson.

And it's just beautiful.

It's absolutely, fucking _beautiful._

He's not even walking Castiel anymore, Castiel is walking him, leading him next to his brother, where they wait for the other pairs to file out. Castiel has his eyes locked on the pairs walking out, smiling at them as each of them separate to their sides. Dean wants to watch them. He really does. But he can't. He's stuck, super glued tight onto the way the sun compliments how gorgeous Castiel really is.

Dean physically and mentally cannot let him go. He _won't _let him go. There's the biggest chance in the world that he's going to fuck this up, and he thinks he will, but he's going to try as hard as he fucking can. Because no matter how many times he's told himself that he can push through leaving him on Saturday, that feeling gets punched right in the face by the feeling of _not being able to say goodbye. _

"Dean, pay attention." Castiel whispers, and Dean snaps out of it.

_Since when did everyone walk out?_

All the groomsmen, the bridesmaids, and even now _Ruby _is here. And even Dean has to admit, she looks beautiful. The veil is still flipped over her face, but Dean can still see the way she's looking at Sam, the way she's holding his hands so tightly. Yeah, she can be a bitch sometimes, but Dean knows she'll take care of Sam. Well, she _better _take care of Sam.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please be seated." The minister raises his hands, and then motions them down. The old man smiles at Ruby and Sam, "We are gathered here today to join Ruby Cortese, and Samuel Winchester in an inseparable bond."

"Love is the reason we are here," The minister says, and Dean sees Sam grip onto Ruby's hands tighter, "In marriage we say not only "I love you today", but also "I promise to love you for all of our tomorrows"."

Dean hears a rasp behind him. He glances towards Castiel.

He's _crying. _

And Dean has never wanted to hug someone so tight. Why he's crying, Dean doesn't know; but it doesn't matter. Dean reaches for his hand, entwining their fingers together. Dean clenches his jaw.

Dean whispers so quietly barely himself can hear it. "It's okay, Cas. It's okay." He says, and the smallest smile spreads across his cheeks. He listens to the minister talk, watching Ruby smile under the veil, teeth white and unable to hide behind her lips. He watches her unhinge a hand from Sam's every once in a while to wipe her cheek. She laughs, and Sam laughs back.

"Sam, would you like to say your vows now?" The minister asks him. Sam clears his throat and pulls a paper out of his pocket. He opens it, looking at the crinkled sheet for a second. Sam huffs a laugh, then he puts the worn paper back into his pocket. Ruby looks confused for a moment.

"As the cliché says, you showed up when I was least expecting you. I intend to love you, hold you, and grow very, very old with you." Sam sniffles, and Dean smiles and shakes his head, "I love you for who you are, and that means I don't expect you to think you're perfect. But to me, your imperfections are perfect. I love you enough to never let you go, and that means that I will always be thinking of you, dreaming of you, wanting and needing you constantly, and hoping you feel the same for me."

Dean holds Castiel's hand tighter.

"Sam—" Ruby laughs, "—You're making my make-up smudge, you jerk."

Sam laughs and flips the veil over, thumbs finding reddened cheeks and wiping underneath her eyes. Sam leans closer to her, "It's your turn to make my make-up smudge."

Ruby shakes her head, "Sam, when I saw you in the supermarket that day, I thought you were like—the hottest guy I had ever seen." The crowd laughs and Sam chuckles a little, "And then you took the last box of _Frosted Flakes_, and I hated you. But to repay your due's you took me to that crappy coffee-shop right next door to the supermarket, and that was the day I knew that I didn't want to share crappy coffee with anyone else."

Dean holds tighter.

Ruby continues, her voice a little broken, but she's still smiling, "Through it all you have become my best friend, my lover, and my companion. I promise you forever. And I promise endless boxes of _Frosted Flakes_."

And by the time the rings are settled comfortably onto each of their hands, Dean's sure he may have broken a few bones in Castiel's. But Castiel doesn't pull his hand away. The minister smiles lightly at them both, "In your journey of life together, remind yourselves often of the love that brought you together. Give the highest priority to your love. When challenges come, remember to focus on what is right between you. In this way, you can ride out the storms. And when clouds hide the sun in your lives — remember, even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is always there."

Even tighter, now.

"Sam, Ruby, you have consented together in holy matrimony, have pledged your vows to each other, and have exchanged rings as tokens of your love and commitment to each other. In accordance with the laws of the state of California, and with great joy, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester."

Sam and Ruby stare at each other, the both of them happily smiling and giggling, waiting for the minister to continue.

The minister nudges Sam on the shoulder, "That's your cue!" He laughs. Sam circles his arms around Ruby's waist, pulling her up into the air, her white strapless dress floating. She wraps delicate hands around the back of his neck, smiles against Sam's lips, and then kisses him. Sam picks her up, one arm hooked strongly under the bends of her knees, and the other wrapped around her back. Ruby squeals a little as Sam carries her down the aisle, leading them back towards the tent.

The sun has almost disappeared now, a sliver of it over the horizon, small wedding lights flicker on and light up the field. Castiel hooks his arm through Dean's again.

"Dean," Castiel says softly and tilts his head, "You're crying."

"Yeah," Dean responds, "I know."

* * *

><p>"Sam, as much as I hate chick-flicks and all, I gotta' say, that got me."<p>

Sam scratches the back of his neck and ruffles his hair. Ruby smiles at him and nods, "Thanks, asshole." She jokes with him, a smile spreads across her face that Dean can't help but return.

"You look beautiful," Dean says to them, and then he glances at Ruby, "I guess you are too, Ruby."

She nudges his arm. "Oh ha-ha, funny. So tell me about your friend."

Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's arm, stretching out a free hand to shake Ruby's. Dean smiles, "Oh, this is Cas, he's—"

"So this is who all the fuss is about?"

The four of them draw their attention to the man approaching. Dean chuckles, "Bobby." He grins. Bobby looks weird without his hat, even weirder that he has his hair gelled back against his head. His suit looks a little small for him, and the pink tie he's wearing was _obviously _not his choice.

"All I've been hearin' all night is "Castiel this, Castiel that" and "who's the pretty boy that Dean's got his hands all over"," Bobby gives Castiel a pat on the back, "Good to finally meet ya', boy. I'm Bobby. I'm sure Dean here's probably told you all about me. Right, Dean?"

Dean shrugs and flashes a nervous smile.

"He mentioned you, yes." Castiel laughs and shakes his hand firmly, "It's great to finally meet you. I'm Castiel Milton."

Dean's stomach settles a little. Everyone's okay with it. And there's no sign of John. And everything is going _fucking perfect. _

"Karen, c'mere!" Bobby yells, and Karen comes scurrying from across the tent, her pink floral dress fluttering behind her. She smiles wide and bright when she comes over, "This is Castiel." Bobby points out, and Castiel's cheeks flush.

"Oh!" Karen pulls him into a little hug, which Castiel awkwardly doesn't know how to react to, which makes Dean chuckle, "I'm so happy to finally meet you! You're the word around the tent tonight, Castiel."

Castiel blushes again. Dean wraps a hand around his back and pulls him in a little closer. Just then, a little bell rings.

"Dinner is served!" Someone yells, and rolling tables with silver containers come sliding out. Dean's the first one to book it to the tables.

Sam yells behind him, "Dean, there's a bottle of whiskey in the car, would you mind getting it?"

Dean puts down the plate he's holding, "Only 'cause it's your wedding." Dean yells back to him.

He skips out the tent, motioning to Castiel that he would be right back. Castiel smiles and nods at him. Dean can't even remember why he was ever nervous in the first night. If anything, this day had been one of the best of his life.

He looks around for Sam's car, finally finding the silver Cadillac and opening the back door. He looks, but there isn't a bottle in sight. Not in the front seat, not in the trunk.

"Really, Sammy?" Dean grunts, looking in the backseat again.

"Looking for something?"

Dean's lungs catch in his throat.

_No._

_NO._

He can hear the slur in his voice. The rasp; the broken words. He can hear the _anger. _And all in one moment, his night falls apart.

Dean slowly shuts the door and turns around. The bottle of whiskey is empty and dangling from his hands, his head lolls to one side, brows furrowed so much Dean can barely see his eyes. His jacket is unbuttoned, tie undone and hanging loose over his shoulders, collar unhinged. And Dean has nothing to say. Because it's like he forgets the whole damn English language.

"What did you think you were doing?" He says, hoarse and piercing, taking a step towards Dean. The moon behind him makes the silhouette around him darker, and Dean can see the shine of the moon through the swinging glass bottle in his hand. Dean can feel the heat begin in his core.

"What exactly did I _do_, Dad?" Dean spits, chest rising quickly. His feet won't seem to move.

John steps closer, and Dean's feet still won't leave. "Walkin' out with 'em? Holdin' his hand like _you two_ were the ones gettin' married." Dean doesn't say anything. He only watches his Dad step closer to him. John walks unsteady until he's inches away from Dean's face, and Dean can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You _disgust _me." John grits through closed teeth.

"Fuck you." Dean spits right back. He stands still, not a muscle moving, although his mind his telling him to flee. A gray aura starts to set around him.

"Dean?"

Dean's head whips around.

_Cas. _

"Cas, get back to the tent." Dean directs, rough and harsh. Dean can feel the heat begin to rise to his face. He clenches his fists.

"But—"

"Get back to the tent now!"

"No," John pushes Dean aside, stumbling quickly over to Castiel, "So this's him? This the fag you've been screwin'?"

Castiel freezes, and his face distorts into fear, his mouth parting and eyebrows raising. The bottle drops from John's hand and tumbles to the ground as he takes one giant leap towards Castiel, grabbing the collar of his white shirt and raising Castiel off his feet.

"You're the fuckin' pillow biter who turned my son into a fucking faggot? You disgusting sonuvabitch, you listen to me you fuckin'—"

Dean does not hesitate _whatsoever _to hit him in the back of the head with the empty bottle. It shatters, pieces of glass flying everywhere, and John tips to the ground and groans, his body hitting the dirt with a slam.

Dean steps over John, grabbing Castiel's arms and pulling him towards the Impala, "Cas, let's go. _Now._" Castiel is frozen, body tense and cold, "Cas! C'mon! Now!"

Castiel stumbles a little, but his legs work, dragging across dirt. Dean can hear John try to stand from the dirt, hands and feet scraping the ground.

Dean turns around for a second to see John stumbling up and spitting onto the ground. "I wish it was _you_ who died in the fire that night! I wish it was _you _instead of Mary!"

Dean shuts his eyes. His feet begin to hurt mercifully, and suddenly it's as if he's walking across rusty nails. Castiel hooks his arm across his back. The walk to the car is the most excruciating thing he has ever done. All he can hear is his Dad's broken words, on repeat in his head, a broken record playing over and over. This is what he was terrified of. This is what he's _always _been terrified of. He promised himself, he promised _Cas_ that he would protect him, and he _failed. _

He _failed._

_You're the fuckin' pillow biter who turned my son into a fucking faggot?_

He failed on the only thing he promised himself that he would do. His hands begin to sting, a sharp burn into the center of his palms.

_I wish it was you who died in the fire that night! I wish it was you instead of Mary!_

"Cas, take me out of here. Bring me somewhere. I don't care. Just get me out of here."

Castiel buckles him in the passengers seat, and then cups the sides of his face with his hands, his eyes red and glassy. His hand wrap tightly onto the back of his neck, and all Dean can see is the foggy presence of him, a translucent figure.

Castiel whispers quietly, "I know just the place."


End file.
